


Bride of Adventure

by Ozdiva



Category: Anne of Green Gables - L. M. Montgomery, Anne with an E (TV)
Genre: Bride of Adventure, Childbirth, F/M, Pregnancy, Shirbert, There’s a monkey, elopement, sailing ships
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-06-24
Updated: 2021-02-23
Packaged: 2021-03-04 03:29:31
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 25
Words: 60,222
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/24886864
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Ozdiva/pseuds/Ozdiva
Summary: Based on the events of Season 1 Episode 6. What if Marilla had been brave enough to run away with John Blythe all those years ago?Won't you reconsider?Please my love, please say you will … I beseech you ...
Relationships: John Blythe/Marilla Cuthbert
Comments: 233
Kudos: 42





	1. Chapter 1

17 June 1847

_My Dearest Mar,_

_Won't you reconsider?_

_Please my love, please say you will … I beseech you ..._

_I entreat you … you know my heart,_

_Love you always, John_

Marilla sat in her little gabled room looking absently out the window with the latest of John's imploring missives in her hand. His words had become increasingly strident as the weeks went by. Should she go with him? Could she? If she left she'd never be able to return. She'd be a pariah, cast out forever. Marilla did love Avonlea but that love was tied up with John Blythe. Could she cope without him there? It was John or her family. She did not love her father, he was too unyielding and brutal a man for that and her mother was distant and had been ever since Michael had passed. It was Matthew she worried about, could he survive without her? It tore at her heart to make this decision.

John's family were well situated on a good steading, but he never wanted to farm. Found the whole thing terribly dull; the same chores year after year. He chaffed at the bit to get away. He would pour over old books dreaming of exotic places. Geography lessons were his favourite; when he enthusiastically shouted out the answers in classroom quizzes his fellow students would tease him. Here he was stuck in some tiny town dreaming of far flung cities, who did he think he was?

Only Marilla did not mock him. They would walk slowly home from school together, taking the long way so he could share his latest dreams. "And then I'd like to go to Timbuktoo. Isn't that the most incredible name? The Moors are as black as soot and they trade in all manner of spices." Or "Patagonia, have you heard of that Mar? They call it the land of fire." His eyes would light up with the possibilities. The fate of the Franklin expedition's search for the North West Passage fascinated him. "Just think Mar, maybe they're still up there," he'd say pointing towards the mythical shipping passage that hopefully passed over the top of Canada linking the North Sea with the Pacific. If it were navigable would shave months off the long voyage to bring spices to Europe from the Orient. The expedition had set sail a decade ago and disappeared off the face of the earth leading to much speculation around the world.

Marilla for her part would listen patiently, trying not to get too caught up. She had her place in the world. After her brother's death at the cannery the year before, her mother had fallen into a deep melancholia and Marilla had a great deal on her plate. As well as trying to complete her lessons she had to run the household now. John dreams were impossible and it was irresponsible to think any different.

* * *

"Hurry hurry, come on." She ran lightly over the potato field her hand in his the weak moonlight providing just enough light to see by. Tripping slightly over the uneven ground but being held up by his strong arms. "Shh, quickly quickly." With a brief glance back towards home she redoubled her efforts, her lungs bursting.

Finally they reached the buggy and he helped her up into the seat. She sat catching her breath for a moment then looked across at him with wild eyes. "Oh they're going to be so cross."

"C'mon, don't worry about them. It's now or never Mar you can stay here or you can come with me, which is it to be?"

Marilla took a deep breath and looked deep into John's dark eyes seemingly looking into both her futures; either she could stay safe at home with her brother and parents living a half life without John or she could chose to go with him. Could she be brave enough? Their future was uncertain but she could not imagine happiness without him by her side.

John looked at her with baited breath, was he going to drive onwards to Carmody and beyond or turn the horses around and take her home? She had to be committed because once they left there was no going back.

He waited scarcely daring to draw breath until she smiled up at him shyly then said, "what are we waiting for?"

John let out a breath he hadn't known he was holding, "you sure?"

"Don't say that, I might yet change my mind."

"You have to be sure, are you? Don't look back," John said as he watched her half turn her head towards home. "Be the bride of adventure, I know you can do it."

"Right!" she said squaring her shoulders resolutely. "Let's go."


	2. Chapter 2

Baby Caleb rolled off her breast sated and Rachel Lynde handed him over to her daughter Marilla to wind and change. Fixing the buttons of her blouse she stood up heading off to the next chore. Absentmindedly dabbing at a smear of sicked up milk on her chest Rachel sat down for a quick cup of coffee before she tackled the ironing.

A pile of mail sat innocently on the table mostly bills as far as Rachel could see, but here what was this crumpled old water stained thing? The writing was unfamiliar but distinctively read Mrs Rachel Lynde, Avonlea PEI. She wiped the butter knife on her apron and slit it open. A sheaf of flimsy papers fell out and she picked them up wonderingly.

_Lat 47o 56' Long 8o 47'  
April 5 1862_

_Dearest Rachel,_

_This is your long lost friend, if I may still regard myself as such, Marilla Cuthbert. Goodness it has been a long time since I called myself Cuthbert for of course my surname has been Blythe for many a long year._

Rachel's breath caught in her throat, slowly she put the letter down. She sat and stared blankly into the middle distance unable to process what she had just read.

"That's him down," said Marilla brightly when she walked in half an hour later. "Are you...?" she stopped in the doorway shocked by the sight in front of her. Her mother was usually in a state of constant movement, like an energetic squirrel putting in a store of nuts for the winter she never stopped. Between the laundry, mopping, sweeping, dusting, ironing, cooking, mending; there were few times Mrs Lynde just sat. But here she was now, a cold cup of coffee on the table and a sheaf of flimsy papers by her hand. "Ma?" Marilla rushed over. "Are you quite well?"

"What?" Rachel roused emerging from her reverie. "Sorry, I just, I um." She got to her feet and stood still unable to think what to do next.

"Ma, what is it Ma?" Marilla was worried now she looked around Rachel anxiously. "Is it this letter? Is that what's upset you?"

"Um oh yes, I suppose so," said Rachel sitting back down. She looked at it again. The words _if I may still regard myself as such_ catching the corner of her eye.

"May I?" said Marilla gesturing at the pages. She did not usually read her mother's mail but she was curious to know what had upset her so.

"Yes, yes read it out loud to me. I ... I ..."

Marilla sat down opposite and started reading.

_As you may have noticed I am writing to you from the Atlantic Ocean, but who knows where I will be by the time you receive this missive as I pray you will._

_I don't know what it is about my current situation but I find my thoughts are drawn to our childhood in good old Avonlea Rachel, what sweet times we had together. Somehow my thoughts always drift back to one afternoon when we sat on the foreshore in the sunshine and watched a schooner sail past. I am sure you have forgotten it. I never imagined back then that I would be sailing aboard a such a ship as that but so it has come to pass._

_I suppose you have a child or two by now and I pray all is well. Did you wed Thomas Lynde in the end? My apologies for having missed it. I hope you were not too much vexed that I skipped off beforehand._

_I suppose I had better tell you how I have fared since I left home._

_You may recall John had been encouraging me to leave with him. As you may suspect I did not go easily. It was a wrench leaving home and all that I knew and held dear. Not Mama and Papa particularly but you and Matthew. In the end I just decided a life without John was not worth living. I knew he would be my only love and I believed I might be a spinster forever if I did not go with him. I had a premonition of long lonely years stretching out. It was too dreadful to contemplate so I bit the bullet as it were and we ran away. My only regret was not leaving a note of farewell to you, dearest Rachel. I feared that if Papa got wind of it before we left the jig would be up and I would be stuck there forever. My apologies though for leaving you like that, it has weighed on me._

_We were able to find someone to witness our wedding and did that right quick. John got some work as a labourer for a while and we rented a mean hovel. It was not the grand life I had envisaged but at least we were together. It was harder later when John got a post on a merchant ship for a couple of years. I had my first baby by then, a boy Gilbert. It was a hard time, not a word of a lie, but we got through._

_When John returned he was restless but more experienced from his time away and he was able to secure better wages for his next trip. This time he was gone for three years though he was able to visit now and again._

_It was lonely, just me at home with the children for by now I had more babies. When John was finally able to secure a position as ship's captain I begged permission to join him and as you can see from the address I did so. We have engaged a young girl, Anne Shirley, mind you spell it with an E she is most insistent upon that, to help me care for the children as keeping three boys out of harm's way aboard a sailing ship is no mean feat._

_So now you may address me as Marilla Blythe Captain's wife and able assistant._

_Our ship is the romantically named Jonathan Swift, (I seem to be surrounded by Jonathans) a medium sized ketch which carries cargo all over the world. As I mentioned we are currently in the Atlantic, off the coast of Scilly bound for California. We have sailed this way before and I can attest to the fact that sailing around the Horn is every bit as terrifying a prospect as you may have been led to believe._

_Two days ago we celebrated one month since departing London. Traditionally to entice them aboard sailors are paid a month in advance, this is all very fine at the time but several days in they realise they are effectively working for nothing for a few weeks and that is when the officers have to remind them that all is not lost. I do my part to help in that endeavour too for it does no one any good to sulk about this turn of events. In any case that debt is likened to having a horse on your back. One month after sailing the crew say they have finally gotten rid of it and hold a ceremony. Rachel, the first time I saw it I was amazed and my boys love it. The crew spend their spare time collecting all sorts of rubbish and fashion it into the likeness of a horse and it is hanged, then set on fire and the whole lot cast off into the wide blue ocean as they sing a traditional song. It is all most lively and the crew enjoy the break very much and what's more their mood improves henceforth._

_Shortly as you may see by our latitude we will be passing over the Equator. My boys are already on tenterhooks to see what mischief King Neptune will invoke. We have a couple of new sailors so it should be a merry time. There are many weeks where nothing in particular happens so we must make our own fun where we can._

_My boys! It occurs to me I have not introduced them to you. They are Gilbert aged thirteen a mischievous scamp with the same brown curls as his handsome father and twinkling blue eyes like his mother, or so says my husband. Then there is Johnny a rather more solemn child of five who says little as yet but watches all with a wise eye as if he has seen it before. I have also got eighteen month old Jacob who has had to learn to walk on board a rolling ship; how will he manage on dry land we do not know? I had a girl between Gilbert and Johnny, but sadly she only lived a few days and we consigned her to the depths wrapped in a wee white shroud. The saddest day of my life. Her name was Rachel of course. I am sorry I can never introduce you to your namesake but know that she was a bonny wee thing and very much beloved for the short time we had her._

_I have not said anything yet to John, Rachel so in effect you are the first to know, but I have ceased to be unwell so I believe another is on the way. Depending on where we next make landfall my confinement may well be at sea. I will be far from the first woman to give birth thusly, but it is not a prospect I relish. Still it is the life of the wife of a ship's captain and I will manage it bravely._

_You may be wondering how I fill my days? Together with my servant girl Anne, we get the children up and breakfasted then between us we give them a little schooling. They are young yet but Gilbert is interested in reading the ships log and is learning to read the sextant. He stays up to see the stars which his father takes great pleasure in pointing out to him. Gilbert is quite put out if the weather is cloudy and his stars are out of sight. He has his favourites in each hemisphere, the Southern Cross and Orion's Belt. Though did you know Orion is still visible down south, except it is upside down. John pointed it out to me one quiet night when everyone else had gone to bed. After their lessons they might play a game or two of marbles while Anne or myself reads to them. I admit I am increasingly leaving that task to Anne as she has the most expressive reading voice and puts her all into it. Or else I catch up on my sewing, the boys are always tearing a cuff or their pants I suppose it is the same for you. I started a new sampler a week or so ago and it is progressing slowly. Otherwise I duck out leaving the boys in Anne's care and go visiting our passengers if we have any. Sometimes we merely take cargo but often there are folk who desire to travel our way._

_Sometimes a great longing for home comes over me. I think back to those far off days we spent roaming the Avonlea laneways, Rachel. We would imagine our adult life together with our men by our side, do you recall? When the monotony of seeing nothing but the waves overwhelms me I think back to those autumnal days with great longing. I wonder if the colours still as vivid as they are in my memory? Do they still shine forth in a multitude of oranges, crimsons and gold? I have gotten to know the sea in its multitude of shades from deep blue to turquoise and it is very beautiful, but sometimes I wish to experience a proper Canadian fall again. Mayhap I will make John take me home one year and show the boys._

_There are times I wish I had not chosen the seafaring life, I will admit Rachel. When we are besieged by a storm and all are hunkered down in our cabin, the boys huddled around me praying. Every timber shrieking at the forces they endure; sure at any moment that we will all be rent asunder and disappear into the cold depths. When I hear brief snatches of John's desperate orders above the raging wind. Yes those are the times I wish I had stayed on land._

_But then the storm blows itself out as all storms must and we come out onto the deck and listen to the crew sing their jaunty shanties as they fix the ship. An ancient denizen of the depths, maybe a massive leviathan might spout nearby and roll over lazily to fix me with its giant eye for a long moment making me feel as small and insignificant as an ant. On hot nights in the tropics when there's barely a puff of breeze we might be surrounded by trails of phosphorescence eerily edging the waves with a bright blue light. I hear my boys laugh with delight when a sailor brings up a bucket of the stuff and they pour it over watching it pool around their feet and in their hair. Or a shoal of Portuguese men o'war might come into view their navy blue sails propelling them along gently in a deadly flotilla. Or I might be leaning back into John's arms as we watch the aurora dance in the night sky. Those are the times I marvel at my decision and know that I made the right one after all. They more than make up for any hardships we might face._

_If you wish, write to me care of the shipping agent in London, I am sure to be back there one day._

_Your loving friend,_

_Marilla Blythe_

"She's got a cheek, after all this time," was Thomas' only comment when he came in at lunch time. He had comforted Rachel when Marilla had disappeared off the face of the earth before they were married. He still remembered the hue and cry. Old man Cuthbert had torn up the whole island looking for his girl and his wife had gone to an early grave. She had been unwell beforehand but folks suspected Marilla's departure hastened her demise. Thomas hated to think how this letter might upset Rachel now.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> * If Marilla going to sea seems implausible I'll say that I found a wonderful book where this did happen to a lady in the 1800s. She too was bored at home and set off to join her husband on board. Her diaries have been edited and published by her great granddaughter. It's a really fascinating read, if you're into that sort of thing.
> 
> * John is technically probably too young to be a sea captain, but I suppose it could happen if luck fell his way.


	3. Chapter 3

Anne had moments of reflection when the children were abed and she was curled up in her own bed exhausted by her day. It was hard work minding the three boys, though Gilbert rebuffed her attention. Fair enough she thought, he was only a few months years younger than she.

She had been languishing in the Halifax children's asylum for some time wishing she could be placed out. Maybe a prince will pluck me away from all this. She'd imagine the scene as she sat by the dingy window at night looking out at the stars. He would come to the window on a pure black horse, its mane so long it nearly touched the ground. Pawing the ground and neighing softly it would stand still while she jumped out of the window her white nightgown billowing all around until she landed in the prince's arms and they'd gallop away together. More prosaically she just hoped some nice family would ask for her and take her away from all this.

So she was delighted when Mrs Blythe met her one afternoon. Many of the women who came looked at Anne and the other girls with a cold expression in their eyes and talked over and about her as if she were a dumb mute. Mrs Blythe did not, she crouched down in front of Anne and talked to her directly, "we live on a ship, Anne. I need help with my sons. How would you feel about coming out to sea with us? It'll be hard work and sometimes dangerous, but I can promise you it will never be dull and you'll always have enough food and warm clothes." Anne nodded at her eagerly and gathered up her meagre belongings before walking out the gate of the hated institution.

There were times she thought she might have made a mistake; when seawater was lashing the deck and pouring down into the cabins and the scream of the storm made you feel as though the ship might be torn to pieces at any moment. But Mrs Blythe though strict was not unfair. She expected Anne to earn her keep, but she was not cruel or malignant about it. Anne was never whipped; Mrs Blythe's look of disappointment was enough to keep her in line, but her imagination did get away from her at times.

Sometimes it was too enticing to join the boys in their play and they too forgot that she was their servant and treated her more like their sister. Anne preferred that, but it made difficult when she was required show authority. More likely than not they'd just laugh in her face. Mrs Blythe would come and help her then. Later she would remind Anne that it was better to maintain some distance. It was difficult because Anne loved being part of this family. She would rather put up with some disobedience than lose that privilege.

Marilla understood the dilemma. She may not have been an orphan like poor Anne, but her younger self would have done anything to have a happy family again. When she was little her big brother Michael was the centre of their family and in hindsight kept them together. He went off the canneries to earn his keep one winter when the farm work slowed down. He promised to come home in the spring and hugged his mother and Marilla farewell. They watched him walk down the laneway, his belongings tied up in a scarf slung over his shoulder. Marilla watched him until his small figure turned a corner and just like that he was gone. They never saw him again. He was killed in an industrial accident two months later. A letter from the cannery arrived with his meagre belongings and pay owing, less his funeral costs. Her mother collapsed and really, Marilla reflected, never recovered.

*/*/*

It's its eyes that Anne first notices. Tiny black beads with a dash of white where the sun catches the iris surrounded by the most glamorous long eyelashes. A little hand reaches out to hers at the marketplace in Bari as it grimaces and chatters. Anne holds its hand in hers for a brief moment feeling the near humanity, like and yet not. Anne has never seen a monkey before but she knows what it is. Marilla's a few strides ahead but when she turns to confer with Anne about the next thing to buy she finds she is nowhere to be seen. Marilla shakes her head in consternation. The girl is inclined to get lost, especially here at a market with so many distractions. She looks around, not panicked but keen to find her. At least Anne's red hair acts as a sentinel. There she is, Marilla turns around and watches Anne's fascination with the little thing. Hmm, she doesn't ask for much this girl and she works hard. Marilla walks up to the stall holder one hand on her burgeoning stomach and asks, "how much?"

The man grins, his tanned face breaks into a gap tooth grin and his eyes sparkle as if he's weighing up how much he can get for the animal. The monkey brings in money for sure, but he has grown tired of its constant chattering and at home it cries in its cage and cowers when he approaches. He hates its simpering ways and really would love to get rid of it, but only at the right price of course. He names a figure, Marilla frowns and says that's too much. They turn away, Anne more reluctantly though she knows better than to complain, as the serving girl she has no rights. "Shh," says Marilla soothingly. "Watch."

"Madame," the seller calls ingratiatingly. "Come, we haggle." In his limited experience pregnant woman are easily swayed, he figures its because they want to get home and off their feet.

"Haggle?" Anne whispers.

Marilla turns around slowly and looks the man up and down then names a price lower than the one she had offered before. If he wants to sell and she's pretty sure he will, then she wants the power in this bargain. There follows a quick bargaining process which Anne follows her eyes flickering back and forth between them. The man has the monkey dangling by its chain and its desperately trying to climb it to stop being strangled. Eventually the man throws up his hands "basta" and hands the chain to Anne with a quick flick of his hands. A crowd has formed around them and they shout obscenities to the man. He has been bested and they know it, no need to be rude about it though.

"What shall we call it?" Marilla says as they walk away, the monkey now balancing on Anne's shoulder with his crimson coat and peaked hat matching her hair.

"Goliath," says Anne confidently.

Marilla laughs, "because he's so small?"

"He thinks he's big though. See how he carries himself, like he's the king of the world," explains Anne. Marilla smiles at them both; the monkey might prove amusing. She wonders how John will react.

As nice as it is to walk on dry land, Marilla feels a small tug at her heart when she returns to the ship. Home, that's home her heart says. The crew greet them when they walk up the gangplank and make a big fuss of the monkey laughing kindly at its name. Despite their initial misgivings about having a redhead on board, they've all grown fond of Anne.

Goliath jumps off Anne's shoulder and chattering wildly climbs up the rigging in a red flash.

"What's on earth's that? John roars as the Mate chivvies the men back to work.

"I bought it for Anne," explains Marilla watching the animal scurry around high in the rigging looking completely at home already.

Anne is caught between admiration and concern for the little thing, but it seems more comfortable up there than most of the crew. "Anne," one of them calls. "Get rid of it, it's driving us crazy up here." The Mate glares at Anne as if there's anything she can do about it.

"Goliath!" she calls. The monkey ignores her. He's delighted with this new game, freedom at last and of course he doesn't know his name yet. They watch its crimson coat come and go through the rigging way up high.

Hearing the fracas the boys have come out from the cabin to watch the sport and they all stand around watching Anne try to cajole the animal down from the heights. Everyone has an idea and they take care to share it with her, their voices growing increasingly strident. "Anne," the men call down desperately.

John turns his attention to Marilla who shrugs her shoulders.

The crew are getting increasingly annoyed as Goliath chatters in their faces. They don't want to hurt the thing, especially since they like Anne, but they're rather afraid of its teeth. "Goliath! Goliath!" Anne calls up to him but he ignores her. It's frightening down there with a multitude of strangers' faces upturned yelling at him. Anne turns to the others and tells them to hush. John has a face like thunder when Anne looks at him fleetingly, there's no help from that quarter. She calls, she cajoles, she clicks her fingers and her tongue; the monkey stays aloft.

Marilla makes her way to the galley and rummages around for a treat. In the end it is she who saves the day. Turns out Goliath will do anything, _anything_ for a peanut. She holds one on the flat of her palm and gently calls to it. Fast as anything the animal jumps down down down, hand over foot over tail and grabs the nut in both hands, cracks it with his teeth and chatters away exuberantly as he nibbles. Anne is able to put his chain back on and when he is safely on her shoulder again John rebukes her, "don't let it off again, d'you hear. It stays in your cabin or on that chain."

Anne leans into Marilla's side her eyes brimming with tears. She respects the Captain as they all do and hates to upset him.

Marilla protectively wraps her arm around her, "it was an accident, John. She'll be more careful next time."

"See to it that you are," he says sternly and wanders back down the deck shaking his head at the absurdity of it all.

"Take it inside, Anne," says Marilla kindly. "I'll go and talk to him."

"It was my idea, John," she says to him gently. "She doesn't ask for much."

"She shouldn't have asked for this then either."

"She didn't, she was transfixed. You should have seen her in the market. Anne talks so much it was just unusual to see her stillness. I decided to see if we could buy it. It was my decision, not hers."

"We have so little time, the men are busy, we just can't waste time with a monkey. What good is it? How much will it eat?" He knows he sounds ridiculous as soon as he mentions food. The thing is tiny, it can hardly make a dent on their food supplies.

Marilla can see that the monkey is not the problem. She leaves him then and makes her way back to the galley to fetch him a cup of coffee. "What is it?" She asks him gently. He explains that he's had word from the owners. They want to talk to him when they get to London. He's to report to their office when they arrive. "Why couldn't they just put it in a letter?" Marilla asks. She wishes she hadn't when she sees the look of anguish on his face. There can be no displays of affection in front of the men so she says, "come," as she pulls his arm. "Come, you can leave them for a minute." John looks at her about to rebuff her, then runs out of will. With a quick call to the First Mate to keep an eye on things he follows Marilla to their cabin.

The Mate watches them leave, relieved. He's not sure what's up but the Captain was out of sorts. He never thought he'd say it but he's pleased the Captain has his wife aboard. Far from being bad luck she's helping the situation.

Marilla eases John's coat off him and makes him lie down on the bed. She lays down next to him and cuddles into his side, making circles with her forefinger on his chest just so, the way he likes it.

"What do you think they'll say?"

"I don't know, I just don't know. That's the problem. It could be anything. It could be a special cargo, or I could be out of a job. Maybe they're unhappy I have you all on board?" He sobs then, he's realising how much he loves having them all around. How joyous he feels when Gilbert asks to read the sextant or even watching the smaller boys at play; and of course there's Marilla. The love of his life. He thought he could live without her, see her only a few times a year but he's never been happier since she's been on board. There's a steady strength about her that he's come to rely upon.

"Sh, sh," she soothes him. "All will be well. If the worst comes to worst the boys, Anne and I will disembark and live on land somewhere."

"No," he turns his face towards her. "I can never part from you again. If it comes to that we'll return to Avonlea and I'll farm."

"You hate farming," she says with a smile.

"I hate the thought of being parted from you more," John says as he gathers her into his arms. They lay together for a while longer relishing the moment. John is nearly asleep when he hears a yell from outside. With a sigh he gets to his feet and Marilla helps him with his coat. She watches him go and with a small prayer makes her way out to the children.

*/*/*

"Good news, Mar. You'll like this," John burst into their cabin shocked as he always was by the sight of Marilla's round form. Usually she was so slight but when she was large with child she looked as though she had a big rubber ball inside. Marilla turned to him her bright blue eyes dulled somewhat. It had been a hard night, she found it hard to get much sleep at this stage of her pregnancies.

John strode over to her, the picture of health she thought wearily. It was so easy for men. A brief moment of passion and their work was done, while hers was just beginning. She rubbed her face and let him take her hand. "What is it?"

"The owners have a cargo for Montreal. They want us to take it. It's a new market for them, they need the best," he said with a grin.

"Montreal, that would mean…" her face lit up and he marvelled to see the transformation. "Was that was the letter was about in Italy?"

"That's right we'd sail up the Gulf of St Lawrence, right past Prince Edward Island. I don't know why they made such a song and dance about it. They could have just let me know when I got here."

Home. It had been been too long since Marilla had spied her beloved island.

"How wonderful, do you think?" she barely dared ask the question.

"That we could stay a week or two? I don't know? I suppose it depends how long the passage takes. Maybe I'll let you all off and continue to Montreal on my own? How would that be do you think?"

Now that Marilla had time to think she wasn't sure what their reception would be like. Would she be greeted with open arms after all this time? "I'll think about it," she said more cautiously. John came to her and gave her a hug with arms outstretched, gone were the days of being able to hug her close. "Of course, think about it. I suppose it'll be too early won't it?" he said rubbing her stomach, "you won't be ready to meet the world yet will you little one?"

Marilla gazed down at herself, "I doubt it. We'll probably be back out to sea by then," she said with a sigh. She really was quite worried about giving birth on board, but did not like to concern John. All will be well, she said to herself, as much to put her mind at ease as anything else.

A fortnight later as they entered the vast Gulf of St Lawrence Marilla bent down to pick up her handkerchief when she felt a low sharp pain across her abdomen. She gave a quick intake of breath and broke out into a sudden sweat. Leaning on the back of the chair she straightened up hoping that it was just an intense early pain such as she sometimes got with her earlier pregnancies. But no, here was another one, deeper longer and more pronounced. The shock of it forced her to fall to her knees and cry out suddenly. It was Johnny who found her prostrate on the floor with her petticoats crumpled all around, panting. She briefly looked up at him her face screwed up in agony, mouthing the word 'help'. He took one look at her and ran to find Anne and his father.


	4. Chapter 4

March 1864

 **Bang!** Bang bang bang!

"Who the devil is that?" Thomas Lynde looked up at Rachel. "At this time of night?"

"And such a night," replied Rachel aware of the rain drumming against the windows.

Bang!

"Aren't you going to answer it?"

"I suppose I'd better." Rachel stood behind Thomas as he flung open the door. The sight shocked them. A wild haired, saturated figure from their past stood on the doorstep his fist raised as if to knock again. "John? John Blythe? What on earth are you doing here?"

"Help, have mercy please. It's Marilla I think, oh God! I think she's going to…" He didn't finish, as soon as he mentioned Marilla's name Rachel dashed off the porch and splashed through the rain to the wagon. Marilla lay in the back still and as white as a sheet, a swaddled newborn tucked up in the crook of her arm. "Thomas! Quickly now. Quickly Get her inside."

*/*/*

Marilla Blythe lay white as alabaster on the spare bed. Rachel had ushered everyone out so she and her Marilla could peel her wet clothes off and put her into a clean nightgown. A tell tale slash of scarlet stained the back Marilla's clothes, soaking all the way through her petticoats to her skirt.

Rachel emerged from the room to find her children and Marilla's milling around with John Blythe and a red haired girl who Rachel presumed was the serving girl Anne, sitting on the couch together, the girl was cradling the fractious baby. "Thomas has gone for the doctor," John said with worry in his eyes.

"Good, I'm concerned, she's lost a lot of blood. Is the baby well?"

"Just hungry I think. I ran out of cows milk," replied Anne sadly.

Rachel stretched out her arms, "Give her to me." She settled down with the familiar weight and commenced to nurse, thankful that she had milk to spare. I just hope, thought Rachel, but no in the distance she could hear her little Lexie crying too. Fortunately Marilla went to see to her. She reemerged a short while later with a fussy baby and Rachel nodded to her. She could manage them both at the same time.

"What happened?" Rachel asked once she had the babies settled into position sucking on either side, a curious feeling she noticed absentmindedly.

"It was a fast labour," John explained.

"This is her fifth isn't it?"

"Mm hm," he nodded. "And she was delivered easily enough." Rachel rolled her eyes, only a man could say that so flippantly, childbirth was never easy. John did not notice her expression and continued, "but then the blood came and came and I, I couldn't staunch it. Mar was frightened at first but then she fainted and and..." he had no words to describe the mad trip to the coast, unloading her to a rowboat in a shipping sling and their row across the surf to the lights of the nearest port and thence to Avonlea. If he'd thought about it he would have taken her to a doctor but like a homing pigeon he returned to the one place he knew she'd be taken care of like she was one of their own.

"Has she a name?"

"Yes we had enough time for that, she had one picked out in advance, she's Susanna. I just hope…" but he could not finish the sentence, he hoped that was not all Marilla would give the babe.

They sat in an uneasy silence while they waited for the doctor to come.

When he finally arrived he rushed in dripping water everywhere and Rachel took him directly to the spare room. He examined Marilla with a frown and ordered hot water and plenty of towels. "Do you think you can save her doc?" John asked frantically.

"We might be lucky. Now if you'll excuse me, I have to tend to my patient, Mrs Lynde?" John backed out of the room and sat back on the couch with his boys clambering quietly into his lap. They hugged each other tight while Anne looked on forlornly.

After some hours the doctor left handing Rachel a packet of ergot. Give her tea made with this at least three times a day. I warn you she won't like it, tastes repulsive but it should help. I'll be back tomorrow," and with that he left. Rachel looked at them all momentarily then she turned abruptly without a word and went to see to Marilla. John shifted his sleeping children and followed her.

Rachel whispered to John that the doctor had performed surgery, packing her up with cotton to staunch the bleeding. She shuddered at the memory then turned to pick up the pile of blood stained sheets and made her way out to the kitchen. John sank into the chair next to the bed and took Marilla's lax hand into his own. He would sit with her all night his mind deadened by the events of that terrible day until dawn's first rays lit Marilla's waxen face.

Cracking open the door, Rachel found him perched on the bed lying next to his wife. She tapped him on the shoulder and he woke with a start looking first at Marilla who still slept and then wildly up at her. "Oh." He clambered to his feet and stood in his crumpled clothes running his hand through his disheveled hair and over his unshaven chin.

"The doctor said he expects she'll sleep for a few days as her body recovers, so I'm not surprised she hasn't woken yet. You go and wash up, the butt is outside."

John left as she directed and found his boys and Anne and the Lynde children crammed around the breakfast table admiring Goliath. The monkey was most put out at its changed circumstances. It had nestled by Anne's neck all night and only emerged when forced by hunger. Now it was holding a piece of apple delicately in its tiny fingers and nibbling quickly his bright eyes glancing around nervously confused by all the strangers.

After a quick wash John located Rachel by Marilla's bed. He looked at her fondly and bent down to give her a kiss on her forehead and stroked her cheek.

"I have to go," he said as he straightened up.

"Go?"

"Yes, I have a cargo to deliver."

"Go?"

"Yes," I must get to Montreal.

"Go?"

Why did she keep asking that? "She'll be safe here. I'll back soon."

He kissed the children goodbye and walked out the door. As Rachel watched him leave the only thing she could think about was Thomas' reaction.

*/*/*

The first thing Marilla noticed was the stillness. Her world usually moved in a constant rocking motion but now it did not. She fell asleep wondering. The silence woke her next. No creaking timbers, no air billowing the sails and the call of the gulls was missing. Again it was too much to ponder.

Eventually she roused to the feeling of someone wiping her face and she moved slightly with a low moan. Instantly it ceased and she moaned again in protest.

"Shh, shh," said an unfamiliar voice, "I'm just giving you a bath now. I'll be finished in a moment." Rachel noticed that Marilla winced when she washed her chest, she pulled back to appraise the situation and heard the baby cry in some far off room. Hmm, she paused for a moment thinking it through. It proved a difficult balancing act, not helped by the distress of the hungry baby and the unresponsiveness of the mother, but when the pillows were placed just so the baby could latch on and then the only sound was gentle sucking and swallowing. It felt right to have Marilla feed her own baby at last.

The rocking, the rocking was missing why was she so still? Thinking made her dizzy and she passed out from the effort.

"Are you there Marilla, are you there? Come along dear, take a sip of this, it'll make you well again." That voice again? Whose was that voice? The answer to the mystery flickered at the edge of recognition but it was too exhausting and she lapsed into unconsciousness again.

Marilla lay in that liminal space between life and death watching the dust motes dance in the shaft of light like constellations in the night sky. She became aware of someone sitting by her quietly and turned her head. Still clouded by confusion it was a while til their blurry features coalesced into a discernible face and even then still she thought she must be dreaming. This face looked like an older version of a person she once was close to; but she was far away. There was no way she could be here now. Marilla started to cry with longing, tears stinging her cheeks. She had once deserted her and now felt a terrible guilt. "Shh shh, it's all right I'm here now. Shh," the face soothed her. Lulled by the words Marilla felt herself drifting off again.

Rachel sees her eyes are open watching seeing. "Are you with us then? Are you back? Have you decided to join us?" But the words are meaningless to Marilla they ricochet around in her brain like a rubber ball Johnny once failed to catch and they bounce out of reach over over over into into into… Rachel watches carefully and sees as Marilla flicks her eyes momentarily towards hers then slide past into nothingness. But it is not nothingness for Marilla, if she had the wherewithal she would cry at the difference as what was graceful before is now a frenetic swirl. It is too much and Marilla lets her eyelids slip shut.

A storm is brewing in her mind at least. She can hear John's cries above the screeching of the ship. She turns and traces over the timber that makes the wall of her cabin the wood all lippity lappity over and over she feels it, the motion and texture calming her.

Rachel can see the fingers of Marilla's right hand make waves ceaselessly though all else about her is still. That motion and her steady breathing let her know her long lost friend is still alive; fighting some inward battle.

_Marilla is racing around the deserted ship. She runs from deck to deck, the ship heeling and yawing in the rough sea frantically looking for John, for the children, for Anne, for the monkey, the crew, a cat would do or even the red glinting eyes of a stray rat but the vessel is completely empty. She chases along corridors to nowhere, up ladders that lead to dead ends, tripping over her skirts in her increasing agitation._

When Marilla next awakens room is dark and a yellow point of light draws her eyes, as it comes into focus she sees that it is a candle flame wavering in the quiet room. She watches it for a while and then is aware of breathing, is it her? No someone else is with her, with some effort she moves her eyes towards the breathing and finds a figure in the gloom. "Whhh."

The figure hears her and moves towards her slowly, "hello there." They place a cool cloth at Marilla's brow and wipe her hair away. "Thirsty?" A hand is placed at the back of Marilla's head and it is raised causing sparks to fly off in her head as if the universe is now internal, she shakes briefly as if to send them off. The water is the most delicious elixir as it courses around her mouth and a little down her throat. She opens her mouth eager for more but the hand has levered her back down and she lets out a noise of protest. "Not too much yet, Ma said."

"Hhh." Marilla tries again when the breath catches in her throat. "Who?"

"I'm Marilla."

Marilla looks at her in confusion. If this apparition is Marilla then who is she? Has she died and come back as a young girl? Has time gone backwards and she is now her mother being tended to by her daughter Marilla? She felt herself all over with a shudder, she still felt like herself. The girl said she was Marilla, but she was Marilla, wasn't she? The panic makes her breathe faster, better to be asleep than to be hallucinating. She closes her eyes and feigns sleeps until it was a pretence no longer.

Young Marilla sat back and watched this other Marilla sleep. Her namesake; she had always hated it, hated the stupid name. Why couldn't her mother have called her Margaret or even Mary? Some normal name, not this this abomination which everyone mocked, which she had to explain over and over, which no one could ever spell. Ugh Marilla what a stupid name. But now seeing another one, she felt different, as though she did not want to share her name. She had never ever not once in her life met another Marilla and she wasn't sure she liked it. Somehow now being unique did not seem so terrible.

When next Marilla wakes it is her brother sat by her side. His familiar sandy hair long now and in his eyes, he sweeps it back and glances across at her shocked when she looks back alert and lucid. Matthew takes her thin pale hand in his rough browned one and squeezes gently, "good morning," he smiles. "Want a drink?"

Marilla blinks slowly so that he knows she is communicating. She feels his strong hand at the back of her head, so different to her other Marilla self. Perhaps their weakness was something they had in common? Her hand being smaller it was more of an effort for her. But Matthew holds her firmly, her head cradled comfortably in his wide palm. He lets her have a couple of sips and if she never loved him before, and she did; she loved him all the more now for the water tastes like ambrosia, she can feel it coursing through her whole body enervatingly.

"Sorrrrr," it's barely more than an exhalation. She darts her tongue out to lubricate her dry lips.

"Sorry, is that what you're saying? What have you got to be sorrowful for?" Matthew looks at her with so much love it breaks her heart.

"Lllll."

"For leaving me? Is that it?"

Marilla blinks once.

"Well here now you've got nuthin to apologise for. You went out and lived Em. Judging by your letters you really sucked the marrow outta life. I'm so proud a ya. If you'd a gone and done nuthin' I'd a been sad, but I read your letters and close my eyes and imagine I'm there too." He lapsed then looking back at his sister he realises all this talk has exhausted her and she's asleep again. He smiles at her fondly. Settling back in his chair he feels it creak under him as he shifts his weight.


	5. Chapter 5

With an indignant cluck Matthew threw the last of the chickens out. As he turned he inadvertently stepped on a fresh egg and swore. Next he had to have words with a particularly obstinate goose who stood its ground. Having sorted that out he turned his attention to the rest of the house. He supposed it stank of animal though he had long since stopped noticing. He started with the walls, washing them down, letting the muddy water drip to the floor. He worked all day long, scrubbing, sweeping, mopping and collapsed into his bed that night. No, he thought to himself the next morning as he eased his aching body out of bed, I need help. 

Shortly after he was found cap in hand at Rachel’s front door asking to talk to Marilla’s girl, Anne. “I was wondering if you were any good at cleaning?” he said apologetically. 

Anne had cleaned many a pigsty before but none quite as filthy as Green Gables. After more than a decade of living alone with just his animals Matthew had let the old house slide into a squalid mess. Anne grimaced and he ducked his eyes in apology. Between them they managed to get it into a more respectable state. They dragged the rugs out to beat them clean, mopped, dusted, laundered, wiped the shit stains off the walls, even mopped the ceiling. When one flagged from the effort the other would offer encouragement. Eventually after a solid couple of days they stood arms akimbo in the kitchen gazing around proudly. Anne had a smudge of blacking on her cheek from the stove and Matthew’s hair quite stood on edge from the dust and they were both disheveled, but the house was clean. 

Matthew felt able to invite Marilla’s boys up to the old house to stay. After a good wash he made his way down to the Lynde house to fetch them. Rachel put up a fuss when Matthew told her his plans, but on reflection she was quite relieved; minding an extra brood was a great deal of work and after all as Matthew argued they were his kin, not hers. 

Gilbert and his younger brothers entered the kitchen tentatively. They had heard tales of Green Gables all their lives but felt it felt strangely anti-climatic to actually be there after all this time. Little Johnny stuck his hand over his nose and declared that it smelt funny. Anne and Matthew were a bit put out at his reaction, after all they had worked so very hard. Matthew offered them a drink of milk and then they followed him out to the barn. 

If the old house was a bit of a disappointment, the barn more than made up for it. They were told not to touch any of the tools but the hay loft was theirs. The rest of the day was spent in happy exploration of the space finding nooks and crannies even Matthew had forgotten. They made their acquaintance with the farm animals, the goats, chickens, cows, horses, sheep; the old cat curled up with a new litter of kittens hissed when Jacob uncovered her lair and he jumped back in fright but Anne was able to soothe him. 

*/*/*

Rachel walked into the spare room and flung open the curtains letting the good spring sunshine into the room. She turned around and was delighted to see Marilla's blue eyes steadily looking into hers.

"Well good morning and welcome," she said with a smile.

"I thought I was dreaming," Marilla said huskily unable to stop staring. Rachel had matured but was still as beautiful in her eyes as ever. She radiated health and practicality.

"No, no it's me all right, your old friend Rachel," she said as she fluffed Marilla's pillows and helped her sit up against them.

"How long?”

"It's been about a week, dear.”

"Is the, is she?”

"Susanna? Is that who you mean? She's right here." Rachel turned around and plucked the baby out of her bassinet. Marilla tried and failed to hold out her arms for her, exhausted by the effort. Tears sprang to her eyes.

"Now now, don't fret so, now you're awake we can get you strong again." Rachel sat down on the bed next to Marilla and placed the baby on her chest. "You've been nursing while you slept.”

Marilla looked at her in amazement, "how on earth?”

"I'm not even sure, but between us all we managed it. I must say I'm looking forward to have you around. Susanna began to stir a little, her wee mouth stretched into a wide yawn and she began to make small mewling sounds as she rooted for the breast. "Are you hungry, little one." Marilla watched as Rachel undid the ties on her nightie. "Can you?" Marilla tried but ultimately failed to hold the Susanna's wee form so Rachel was forced to hold her. It was awkward for them both. Marilla felt quite embarrassed but Rachel who after all had been caring for Marilla for the last days and was therefore quite at home with the other woman's body, was not.

"And where's John?" asked Marilla once Susanna had latched on.

"Well you wouldn't fathom it, but he's gone off to deliver the cargo. As soon as it looked as though you were out of danger he was off. He sent word a few days ago to say he’d be a couple of months.”

Marilla nodded, "yes that's right.”

"That's right? Is that all you’ve got to say? He just left you here, that’s what.”

"I'm sorry to burden you, but yes. He needs to get the cargo to its destination. Once he gets a reputation for tardiness it's hard to recover.”

"So you aren't bitter?”

"It's our life, Rachel. It's brutal when you stop to think about it but it's what we do. Still I'm sure I was a burden you could have done without." Marilla struggled to throw the blankets off but got entangled and lay back exhausted.

"Oh no. I haven't nursed you this long for you to collapse now. You stay right there," Rachel commanded.

"Is Thomas upset?”

"No dear, it's what we do. Care for people when they need it.”

"Still it was a terrible imposition I'm sure, I must apologise.”

"Not at all. You might have died in some hospital. Actually as daft as he was I think John made the right call bringing you to me.”

"Certainly no one could have provided more tender care," Marilla reached out to clasp Rachel's hand. “Rachel where are my boys?” said Marilla suddenly noticing their absence. 

“They’re up at Green Gables, Matthew and Anne are caring for them. Matthew said they were his kin and he’d take them off our hands. 

*/*/*

When they heard that their mother had awoken Matthew took the boys back down to Lynde Hollow for a merry reunion. Marilla lay in her bed still but they all were delighted to hug and kiss her and regaled her with tales of their adventures. Jacob showed her where the cat had scratched him and she kissed his finger tenderly. 

"Now now children, off with you. Your mother needs her rest." Rachel shooed them out after a while and glanced back at Marilla fondly. Marilla smiled her thanks and lay back on her pillows; happy to have seen her babes but exhausted all the same. Rachel just knew what she needed, how lucky was she to have such a good friend. She felt a warm shape curl into her side and glanced down and spied Johnny. The small boy missed her dreadfully and while Rachel's back was turned he doubled back and silently made his way to his mother. Marilla smiled and put her finger to her lips to quiet him. He nodded and snuggled into her chest sucking his thumb. She wrapped her arms around him and together they drifted off. It was only later when they couldn't find the child that Rachel eventually opened the bedroom door and found him there with his tell-tale hair peeking out from under the blankets sound asleep next to his mother.

When she was strong enough Matthew took Marilla back home for afternoon tea. Of course the filth of many years could not be fixed in one day and Marilla still smelt the residual mould when she stood in the kitchen doorway, but she looked around and could see Matthew's attempts to brighten the place up. Flowers were jammed into a vase on the kitchen table alongside a plate of cookies. It had been a long long time since she had been in this house and she marvelled to see how small it was. Slowly she walked around each room touching the knick knacks like they were old friends. There was some indefinable tint to the milk in her tea which spoke to her of home. She hadn't even been aware that she missed it until she tasted it again. When she went back to Rachel's she told her she would move in with Matthew. Rachel was aghast, "you're not well enough yet.”

"No I've overstayed your welcome, Rachel. We'll all stay with Matthew while we wait for John to return.”

*/*/*

"You look rather angelic sitting there," Rachel said as she brought her knitting into the parlour. Marilla may have moved out but she still spent a fair bit of time visiting with Rachel, trying to make up for their lost years.

Marilla scoffed, "I'm hardly an angel.”

"I know; it's just the way the light hits the back of your head with Susanna in your arms.”

"Tell me Rachel, what happened when we left?”

"Oh that," Rachel sighed as she set up her knitting. "Yes you caused rather a stir. Nothing like that had happened in Avonlea for many a year. When a dutiful daughter such as yourself up and leaves without a backward thought…”

"I had thoughts," Marilla said interrupting.

"I'm sure you did, but we couldn't know. Anyway when she leaves there's all sorts of speculation. Your papa raised a hue and cry. He was all for setting off with a search party; but you were of age and no one else would join him. Most folks thought privately that you were well out of there.”

Marilla nodded and traced a finger around Susanna's head, watching as the baby suckled. "And Mama?”

"I paid her a visit shortly after.”

“Oh?"

"Yes, she was always quiet as you may recall. I think she barely said five words after, well you know.”

"Michael passed.”

"Mm hm. I sat with her for an afternoon. She was still in that bed." Marilla shuddered. "Exactly," replied Rachel.

"What did you talk about?" Marilla readjusted the baby onto her other side as Rachel's knitting needles clicked away.

"Well it was a long time ago, you must remember. I don't recall everything I said, but I do know that when I speculated where you may have gotten to she smiled.”

Marilla looked up at her sharply, "smiled? Mama?”

"Yes, I've never forgotten it. Her whole face lit up. She didn't actually say anything, but I always fancied she was happy for you.”

"Really?" Marilla's eyes brimmed with sudden tears.

"You'd got away. She knew how important John was to you, and I always thought she feared you'd be stuck up at Green Gables forever if you hadn't made your move when you had the chance. You could have been like Lavandar Lewis. She never moved on after Stephen Irving left her. Of course that could all be speculation on my part, your mother never said another thing, to me at least.”

"Matthew said something similar," Marilla said when her sobs subsided. Leaving her mother had been the hardest wrench of all.

"When was that dear?”

"Well I was only half conscious, but I think he said that he was happy for me and how I was sucking the marrow out of life. There, that's you finished isn't it little one." Marilla hoisted the baby onto her shoulder and rubbed her tiny back to bring up the wind. Susanna nestled her head into her mother's neck before falling asleep. Rachel laid her knitting down carefully and walked over, "here let me, I'll put her to bed.”

Marilla handed the baby over gratefully. She watched them walk out and bent around to pick up her sewing. She had something special planned for Matthew and wanted to give it to him in person before they left. John would be returning soon and they would all resume their life. As much as Marilla loved Avonlea; her place was by John's side.


	6. Chapter 6

_The storm had ceased its wintry roar,  
Hoarse dash the billows of the sea;  
But who on Thule's desert shore,  
Cries, Have I burnt my harp for thee?_ *

Anne's expressive delivery set the tone for a good story as always and they all, Lyndes, Blythes and Cuthbert sat around the newly cleaned Green Gables parlour listening to her weave the mysterious tale. Some might have called it a touch ponderous, but Anne brought life into the words in her own inimitable style. She had an uncanny knack of knowing when to lull them into a dream state and then bring them back to attention as her voice rose at the exciting parts. Rachel sat knitting and Marilla worked on her sampler but the men sat as transfixed as the children.

"Well that's enough for now," announced Marilla after Anne had finished the second chapter.

"Aww Marilla, please let's go on," Matthew spoke for them all, but Marilla was adamant. It was late and what's more she wanted to spare Anne. It was no easy task reading out loud, though she seemed to relish it well enough.

Rachel had taken her Marilla out to the kitchen and together they had prepared a simple supper. Upon walking back in she barely noticed the tableau noting instead that young Gilbert Blythe leaned against the further door jamb watching Anne intently. Everyone else was laughing but he had an intense gaze and seemed unaware of the crowd. He broke his reverie when supper was served then said, "tell them about the pirates Ma." Marilla shot him a reproachful look but he was unrepentant.

"Pirates? Mercy me!" exclaimed Rachel as she set the tray down with a rattle. 

"It wasn't that bad," Marilla said soothingly. Gilbert raised his eyebrows suggestively. "Well," she started reluctantly after a sip of tea. "It happened in the mid of Atlantic perhaps a couple of hundred miles off the coast of Brazil." They all sat listening agog as she, with interjections from Gilbert, told them how they had played cat and mouse with a pirate ship until finally taking cover in a handy fog bank.

Anne had not been with them at that point and she sat nursing her cocoa wishing she had been for she'd have turned it into a better tale than the unimaginative Mrs Blythe ever could. She'd have described the tendrils of fear and excitement that looped around her stomach; the facial features of their hunters (whether she had seen them or no); how they watched from afar as a pirate walked the plank, down to the echoey sound his peg leg made across the still water when it connected with the timber. But as she wasn't there they didn't ask her to contribute and she had to make do with this frankly dullish rendition of what should have been a thrilling story.

Later that night after her charges had gone to sleep she sat at the desk and using the light of single candle flame she wrote her version of the story up including a myriad of embellishments as they came to mind. Eventually the tale told she laid her pen down, closed the inkwell and blew out the candle. 

Marilla found her fast asleep in the morning when she failed to rise, the manuscript laying on the desk beside her. She read the story barely recognising her own tale but recognising the brilliance of Anne's story telling nevertheless. Marilla tip toed out leaving Anne to sleep. If this were the reason for the girl's exhaustion this morning, it was worth it.

*/*/*

Matthew swore under his breath when he was surprised by the monkey yet again. It always popped up in the most preposterous positions. This time it hung upside down from a rafter and chattered in his face. "Get away with you," he shook his fist and was further annoyed when it flung a small object in his direction, it bounced off his head and he bent to the ground to pick it up to find it was a thumbnail size piece of orange peel. Upon rightening himself he was again attacked by a barrage of the stuff. "Argh get away." Honestly if it weren't for the fact that Anne was his daughter…

He stopped, he hadn't thought of her in that way before. Examining his feelings in a rare display of introspection he contemplated further. Did he? Did he think of Anne as a daughter now rather than as Marilla's servant girl? Certainly those days spent cleaning Green Gables bonded them as nothing else could. She just got on with the task with him, never saying a word of chastisement. Brushing his hair out of his eyes he thought it over. He'd never had a daughter, never dared think it was possible in his situation, but well now there's a thing. Anne, hmm. She was a sweet little girl, she had babbled stories at him when they were together making the time pass easily enough, but daughter? The concept bounced around in his mind; daughter, daughter daughter.

The monkey watched him with its twinkly black eyes. The man had gone still now and its fun had stopped. It reached out for another piece of peel and flung it at Matthew's cheek but was annoyed when he didn't react, so deep in thought was he. Goliath swung over and hung upside down chattering to get his attention.

*/*/*

Rachel winced when she brushed her hand across her chest and looked up at the clock. Honestly if this baby didn't wake up soon she'd have to take matters into hand. The tightness needed a release soon, her breasts felt like boulders resting on her chest. Glancing down she reflected how easy it was with another breastfeeding woman in your house; tell-tale damp patches were easily explained. "Tender?" asked Marilla.

“Mm."

"Never thought I'd say it, but I suppose there are drawbacks to having a good sleeper.”

Rachel nodded tightly with increasing discomfort. She set her knitting aside and got to her feet. Marilla watched her leave with a smile on her face. Susanna had just fed and she was feeling very relaxed in her armchair. Still she reflected, it was interesting how Rachel altered the atmosphere; being such a force of nature she caused eddies where ever she went. 

Marilla Blythe looked up when Marilla Lynde walked into the room to talk to her mother about dinner preparations; halting when she saw only Marilla was there.

Ever since young Marilla had tended to her older counterpart she found herself tongue-tied. It was the oddest thing, Marilla Lynde was no shrinking violet but there was something about being around the older woman that made her stumble over her words. The children had all taken to calling the other mother 'aunt' but Marilla wished they had stayed with the more formal Mrs; it sounded stupid to be the only one to name her Mrs Blythe when her younger siblings called out Aunt Marilla with such ease.

"Can I fetch you anything, Mrs... Aunt M'rill." She said, sliding over the letters.

"No, I'm fine thank you Marilla," the older woman had no trouble saying it back to her evidently. Having walked in Marilla could hardly back out, for that would be rude so she sat awkwardly down on the couch as if she meant to do that all along. There was a pause as older Marilla bent down over her sewing and younger Marilla twiddled her thumbs trying to come up with an excuse to leave. There was a pause as older Marilla worked and younger Marilla watched and then all of a sudden they decided to break the silence - simultaneously.

"I," they both said then paused for the other. Then, "excuse me, you first," at the same time and paused again for the other to speak. This happened a few times until eventually older Marilla broke the ice by bursting into giggles "it's like we're twins," she said as tears of laughter tracked down her cheeks.  
"You know," said the older Marilla when their paroxysm had dulled to the odd hiccup, "you had me so confused at first.”

"How so?" asked the younger.

"When you introduced yourself I had something of an identity crisis. You know what it's like, we never meet another. I'm used to be the one and only. I wasn't thinking straight and when you introduced yourself as Marilla I wondered if you were Marilla, who was I? And it was so odd because I still felt like me, but then there you were.”

"I'm sorry.”

"Not at all, you didn't do anything wrong, after all you are Marilla too, just as much as me. If I hadn't been in such a state it would have been fine, but I just had a little moment there.”

"I didn't even realise you were conscious, not really.”

"Well I suppose I wasn't totally, my mind came and went.”

"Do you remember anything?” The younger asked.

"Not much, that moment with you and the way the dust danced.”

"Don't tell Ma, she'll be upset any dust dared rear its head in this house. One of my jobs is keeping it at bay.”

"No easy task on a farm if I recall.”

Young Marilla smiled, "no indeed.”

They were sitting in easy conversation by the time Rachel reappeared with Lexie in her arms. "What was all that about?" she asked as she placed the baby at her breast thinking ahh that's better when she took the strain off with her first suck.

"We were just," one Marilla glanced at the other.

"Comparing notes," the other finished off and they were both off again howling with laughter as Rachel looked on in bemusement. Still she was pleased, relations between these two whom she loved so dearly had seemed strained hitherto and if that had thawed then it was all to the good.

*/*/*

"Tea?" Matthew called out. Marilla took her seat at the dining table and picked up one of her mother’s original rosebud teacups, relishing its smooth sides and intricate pattern and waited for him to pour. "I have something for you,” she said.

"Oh?" Matthew was surprised because after all Marilla arrived home with nothing but the clothes on her back and her children in tow. John still hadn't returned so he doubted she could have much for him.

Marilla rummaged in her bag and drew out a sampler she'd been working on during her convalescence. "We'll need to get it framed, but I thought it might suit.”

Matthew unwrapped it from its covering and warded the children back when they clamoured to see.

_Thy firmness makes my circle just  
And makes me end where I begun**_

The beautifully formed stitching was encircled by a myriad of sea creatures, Neptune with his trident straddled a sea serpent in the top left hand corner counterbalanced by a kraken with tentacles waving in the bottom right. The whole thing had a greenish blueish tinge adding to the maritime atmosphere. "Mar," Matthew said wonderingly, tracing his finger over the words. "It's beautiful.” His whole face lit up when he looked across the table at her. She smiled in benediction. “Just wanted to thank you for everything.”

“I think it’s Rachel you need to thank.”

“I’ll make another one for her, but I’ll do that on board. It’s too hard to keep the sewing of it from her while I’m here. And it’s nice to have a project when we’re at sea.”

“Well I’m sure she’ll love it, as I do this.” Every time Matthew glanced back at the piece he noticed a new detail. “I’ll give it pride of place above the mantlepiece I think. It’ll look nice in there.” Matthew cleared his throat and blew his nose. He really was quite emotional, particularly by her use of that phrase; Donne had been a favourite of their mothers.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> * Of course the pirate tale that naturally sprang to mind was _Treasure Island_ but unfortunately it wasn't published for another 20 years, so it's the more ponderous _The Pirate_ by Walter Scott that Anne reads instead.
> 
> ** _A Valediction: Forbidding Mourning_ , John Donne


	7. Chapter 7

One evening a couple of months later they were all sitting as they usually did listening to Anne read with her usual flair. The book was nearly finished now and the Blythe family were waiting for their father to return. Surely any day now. It had been a wonderful interlude. Their uncle Matthew had introduced them to the family farm and proved himself to be a wonderful mentor with endless patience. Each child had bonded with a seperate member of the Lynde family. Anne had worked hard but realised that her fate was just like any other daughter's when she watched Marilla help her mother.

And Rachel and Marilla? They had gotten reacquainted. They had been so close when they were young and now their friendship had deepened and matured as they faced the trials of motherhood and married life together. They had had many a chat over their craft or on long walks around their corner of the island.

One fine afternoon they took off leaving the babies in the capable hands of their older girls. Wandering aimlessly they found themselves looking out over the sea and to the lighthouse across the bay with white walls catching the sun.

"I love a lighthouse don't you?" remarked Marilla fondly.

"I never really thought about them. They're pretty enough I guess," Rachel replied.

"Well take it from me on dirty nights that flashing light provides such a sense of comfort telling us to avoid that area.

Rachel shuddered, "it sounds dire, that's what."

Marilla laughed, "I suppose it does. But there's something exhilarating about stormy weather too. You'll think we're crazy, but we rather love it. And its when the storm is raging that they need their mother most, even Gilbert who feigns bravery the rest of the time needs me, that's very special. And it's a warm sign of civilisation when you've been at sea for weeks, it's nice to see that flash of light informing you that land is not far off."

"No, I don't know how you can bear it." Rachel stamped the ground, "give me terra firma any day." Marilla smiled and took her by the arm. It was time to head home, their babies would be hungry.

***

Bang, bang bang bang!

"Who is it this time?" Thomas said grumpily. "Oh, it's you again," he said when he found John Blythe on his doorstep. "She's not here. You'll have to go on up to Green Gables." He shut the door in John's face and turned to see Rachel's wrathful countenance.

"You could have said something, greeted the man," chided Rachel.

"I don't owe him anything," Thomas said abruptly. "Let him find her, got nothing to do with me." He settled back in his armchair and picked up the newspaper as if he was completely disinterested, though when he realised he had read the same paragraph three times without comprehension he threw the thing to the floor. "I'm off to bed. Rachel watched him go, picked up the paper and put it on the table then sat and watched the coals flicker thinking what might be happening up the laneway.

Up that laneway John received a warm welcome. Marilla and the children crowded around him kissing and hugging him. He tip-toed into the bedroom to bestow a kiss on baby Susanna, "she's filled out some," he whispered to Marilla who nodded. "I should hope so, she's eating enough," she said ruefully.

"She's got to keep up with her brothers," he smiled and embraced Marilla. "My love I don't have the words to say how sorry I am."

"Sorry?"

"For leaving you like that. Just know it was the hardest thing I've ever done."

"Darling, you brought me to the safest hands in the world. What more could you have done?" Johnny intervened at that point, desperate to see his father and they left their conversation for the time being.

Tucked up in bed later John turned to Marilla to say, "I felt, still feel so guilty."

Marilla gathered him into her arms, "John you had to get the cargo to its destination, I know that. That's what we signed up for." He looked at her with tears in his eyes. "Yes, we," she reiterated. "We have signed up for it. We're in this together."

"I could just work on land, get a desk job or come back and work the farm…"

"...and be miserable, I don't want to be married to a sad man. I want one who is happy where he is. It all worked out for the best and I've had a good catch up with Rachel and the children are thriving. You did the right thing John, really you did. Please don't fret, be at peace with your decision."

He laid his head on her shoulder with his hand cupping her, "really?"

"Yes. As lovely as it has been to be home, I'm keen to get back out there," she unlaced her night gown and lay back to let him caress her with fingers and mouth.

"You wanna go back?" his voice was somewhat muffled as by now he was kissing her breasts. Marilla's only reply was a soft moan which John took to mean she did.

The next morning John confronted Thomas Lynde to convey his thanks. Thomas was busy mending a broken axe handle. He proved no friendlier than he had been the night before. Setting down the axe somewhat reluctantly he snarled, "you've got a bloody cheek John Blythe, waltzing in here with a sick wife in tow. Off you traipsed without so much as a fare thee well and we don't hear a peep out of you for fifteen years and the next thing we know you're bashing our door down demanding help."

"I know I know." John was abjectly sorrowful.

"And that bloody letter. Have you got any idea how that letter upset Rachel?"

"Letter? What letter?" now John was confused.

"Marilla wrote her last year. We were happy, busy but happy. Rachel had the children and was content then Marilla's letter lobs into our lives and she's at sixes and sevens. How dare you?" Thomas stood in the barn raging into John's face spittle flying. "She's never been the same since. And don't get me started on poor Matthew Cuthbert. She up and left him high and dry."

"Now look here," said John standing up for himself for the first time. "You can argue on behalf of your wife, I'll allow that. But leave the Cuthberts out of it. If Matthew wants to complain he's an adult, he can speak for himself."

"But he won't will he? A gentler man never walked this earth. Marilla just deserted him."

"Their parents were still alive."

"Yes, they were, but not for long. Old man Cuthbert cussed himself to death and his wife soon followed. Marilla's departure broke that family."

John replied earnestly, "they were broken already. Michael's accident was the death knell. Was Marilla supposed to sacrifice her happiness, her life, on the family alter? Is that what you're saying?"

"Well look where it got her," Thomas leaned in close to John spittle flying. "You took her away and then she nearly died in my spare bedroom!" That struck home and John sank to the floor, stray bits of hay festooning his trousers. "Oh God don't remind me. Don't you know how guilty I feel about that. I love her, oh God I love her so much." He broke down into gulps of distress while Thomas looked at him, "you're pathetic, you repulse me. Your stupidity nearly cost her her life." He turned his head to spit and left John to his misery.

Rachel spied him coming up to the porch and walked out to greet him. "I'm sorry Rachel," John could barely meet her eyes.

"Sorry?"

"For burdening you so."

"Now look here John Blythe if I ever hear of you taking her anywhere else if she's unwell then we will have words."

"It's just Thomas said…"

"Thomas? What's it got to do with him?"

"He said you had enough on your plate without us coming in and taking your time."

"Did he? Well I better not hear of you ignoring us again that's what! The thought of anything happening to her and you being nearby yet not here, well..." she trailed off suggestively. "Now if you excuse me, I have a bone to pick with my husband."

John grinned despite himself. Regardless of their argument he did not envy Thomas his next half hour or so.

***

Emotions were mixed as they stood in groups surrounded by a small selection of trunks on the red sand, while the small children enjoyed a last game of tag, their whizzing and high pitched shouts added to the adult's tension. White caps tipped the steel grey waves and the ship rode the waves as it strained at anchor some distance offshore. A rowing boat slipped through the water towards them through the turning tide.

Rachel fixed Marilla's shawl and hugged her tight looking over her shoulder at what looked like an absurdly tiny vessel, "I still can't believe it. You're actually leaving us again?"

Marilla looked over at John deep in conversation with Gilbert, pointing out the way the sea was flowing over the nearby reef. With a pause because she must have told Rachel a dozen times that yes she really did mean to leave, she nodded, "I am."

"It just looks frighteningly small."

Marilla laughed, "I suppose it does. At times it feels so very large it's our entire home, but then at other times it does feel tiny. But she's done us proud and steered us true. I feel so exhilarated when I hear the gulls scream, the wind filling the sails and the crew singing their shanties, Rachel. I know I'm truly alive in those moments. There's nothing really to match it.

A few feet away Anne stood close by Matthew, Goliath chittering nervously on her shoulder. "Anne?" Matthew said to her quietly. "What's the matter?" Anne was silent but she pressed into his side. "Do you not want to go?" It was almost imperceptible, but Matthew could just see the barest head shake. "Anne?" He looked at her and was dismayed to see one single tear trace down her freckled cheek. His heart breaking for her, he called Marilla over. "I don't think Anne wants to go," he said to her quietly.

Marilla looked at her sharply, she had enough on her plate at that moment, what with the boys whizzing around excitedly, the baby starting to grizzle and farewells to be made. Now was not the time to have her girl bail on her.

"What is it?" Rachel took a step towards them followed by her Marilla.

"I think Anne would rather stay on dry land," Matthew explained gently.

"With you," Anne whispered looking up at him.

"Rather leaves me high and dry," said Marilla irritably.

There was a pause, then much to Rachel's shock and dismay her Marilla piped up, "I could go." Rachel looked at her in confusion. "You know I could Ma." She looked at Marilla, "I'm good with children as you know Aunt Marilla and I'd like the adventure."

"This is a pretty kettle of fish," said Rachel definitely. "Thomas, I need you," she called to him.

"What is it?" Thomas said scuffing over through the red sand.

"I want to go with them Daddy," Marilla said excitedly.

"With them? On that?" Thomas said incredulously pointing out to sea.

"Mm hm," her eyes lit up. "It sounds exciting."

Rachel and Thomas snorted and he scoffed, "exciting? It's a fools errand that's what it is. I forbid it. You've got your girl already," he said glancing over at Anne. She can go with you like she's supposed to."

"No," said Matthew quietly with his arm around Anne's shoulders protectively. "She's staying here." There was something determined about his soft voice that arrested Thomas. He looked at Matthew seeing a new defiance in the usually cowed man.

"Please Daddy," begged Marilla. "Please just this once." Thomas looked at Matthew, then at Marilla and back to Rachel. Behind them the crewman and John were loading the younger children and trunks onto the rowboat. There being little time to think it through and his girl so determined he gave a short nod over Rachel's shocked gasp. The next thing he knew Marilla was grasping them both firmly and then she was being lifted into the rowboat and all they could see as they stood forlornly on the windswept beach was their girl growing smaller and smaller as the boat was rowed out through the breakers to the ship beyond. She turned once and waved and then they were gone.

Rachel glared at Thomas with tears of anger or sadness she couldn't tell, then gathered the children sharply and sat in the buggy waiting for him to drive.

That left Anne and Matthew alone on the beach. The monkey sat quietly on her shoulder and she absent mindedly stroked his head while she watched the ship as it set sail and soon disappeared out of sight. Matthew stood with her stalwartly then when the ship had gone offered her his hand and together they made their way home.

***

"Happy to be back?"

Marilla leant back into John's chest the wind in her hair as they both watched an albatross swoop over the swell and sighed, "absolutely."

"No second thoughts?"

Marilla laughed, "you remind me of when we left Avonlea the first time."

"Mm, feels a bit like that, a bit foolhardy," he said.

"No," Marilla swivelled around in his arms to look at him and taking his cheeks in her hands added, "not foolish. My place is with you, wherever that might be. It was lovely to visit them again, but this," she looked around and brought her eyes back to him, "is our home."

"Good, I'd never make you stay, but I sure am pleased you want to but you know next time you want to go back, just say so Mar. No need to be so melodramatic about it." She smiled up at him as she leant into his chest.

She and Rachel had gone for one last walk down the old Avenue where the blossom was just beginning to fill the air and the faint scent filled Marilla with homesickness. "Well we're all packed and the children are excited to be gone," Marilla said as Green Gables came back into view.

"But you're not going back out there surely?"

"Why wouldn't I?"

"It's so dangerous, you nearly died Marilla!"

"Yes, but that's not the ship's fault. I could have haemorrhaged anywhere."

"But there's no doctors, no surgeons to help. Aren't you frightened?"

"I am, of many things, but not that. I'll be fine. I'll take precautions next time. Make sure I go on shore earlier. I won't get caught out again. Calm yourself Rachel. All will be well."

"Don't you miss land? Miss us?" Rachel's tone was softer now.

"Of course, I do, but John is out there, and I must stay by his side. It's a lonely calling, that of a sea captain. He needs solace, he needs companionship. No one else can provide that. He must stand apart from his crew, no one can know his doubts and fears. No one but me. If I can do nothing else, I can be there for him. He's human like the rest of us, but he must be firm and courageous for the crew, he must be their captain. To me he can be just John."

Marilla thought of her speech now and hugged John who allowed her one peck on his cheek, "later," he murmured. "Not in front of the crew." She smiled and turned back to watch the sea, listening to the wind billowing in the sails while John issued orders. Yes, this was where she belonged.


	8. Chapter 8

* * *

Marilla

* * *

What had seemed such a delicious adventure when Marilla Lynde stood on the solid beach soon turned to horror as they sailed away, and her stomach lurched uncomfortably. She had felt a bit squeamish on the rowboat but hoped that it would settle once she gained the safety of the ship. Jacob stared at her curiously, trying out one of his new words, 'green.' A simple enough word but it did for Marilla who spewed her breakfast out in a colourful spray splattering it in a wide arc across the deck.

"Oops a daisy," said older Marilla calmly, she after all had been there and seen it often enough. She led the stricken girl over to a bench and sat her down with a bucket and rubbed her back comfortingly saying, "Gilbert would you be a dear and fetch Marilla a glass of water?"

Gilbert did as he was asked and mentioned to the cook Isaiah on his way past that the girl was unwell. "Lemme take care of it, Gilbert," he said. "I got the perfect concoction for seasickness. Tell Missus Blythe it'll be ready d'rectly."

They had engaged Isaiah in Jamaica a few years back when their old cook had jumped ship. He had become a steadying and friendly influence on board. Anne in particular had enjoyed his company as he had kept her supplied with treats and stories from the islands. But poor Marilla had never seen a black man before and visibly recoiled into the older woman's skirts when he appeared smiling gently carrying a cup of his favourite bush medicine.

Older Marilla smiled back at him apologetically and took it from him without a word. Later she would have to have a word with the girl but now was not the time. "Now try to sip this dear," she said. "Isaiah really does have the best remedies." Just the thought of imbibing anything else made the younger Marilla's stomach lurch. Familiar with the movement older Marilla moved out of the way just in time. "Want to go to bed," moaned the young girl.

"You really are better out here in the fresh air," Marilla advised. "It can be quite close in the cabin." Little Susanna had been sleeping throughout, but she began to stir. Now Marilla really had her hands full. The crew were busy in the rigging setting the sails, Gilbert had his hands full with Johnny and Jacob and Marilla had a sick girl and a baby to tend to. She wished, not for the first time, that Anne had not abandoned ship.

Truth be told, initially Anne had taken a few days to acclimatise as well, but Marilla had not been encumbered with an extra child at that point. Still now she had to take control. "Drink," she commanded the young girl. Tentatively Young Marilla took the cup in both hands wincing at the taste but noting the unyielding look in Marilla's eyes she downed it in a few big gulps. "Good girl," said Marilla kindly. "Now give me a moment will you, I just need to feed the baby. I'll be back soon." Young Marilla looked after her for a moment then closed her eyes. As disgusting as the stuff was, she did feel marginally better for it.

"Where's Marilla, er Mrs Blythe?" John asked interrupting her reverie. Marilla felt almost better enough to joke that she was Marilla but thought the better of it when she saw his stern countenance. "She's gone below to nurse, I think," she explained.

"It's too confusing having two Marilla's on board this ship. What can I call you instead?"

"At school," Marilla said quietly. "They used to call me Mari."

"Wonderful, you can be Mari, that'll make life easier," he said gruffly. "Are you feeling any better?" Being the captain John knew everything that happened on his ship. He was not unsympathetic he too had felt as she did in his day. And even now on very stormy nights had been known to lose his dinner over the side; but one just had to get on with it and move on. "Mm hm," she tried nodding then thought the better of it. "A little. Someone gave me something to drink and that helped a little." She showed him the dregs of her drink.

"Ah, Isaiah gifted you one of his remedies, did he? You're lucky, he doesn't share that with everyone. I've never got to the bottom of what's in it. Tastes awful, does wonders. Keep on his right side, Mari and you'll do just fine." John nodded to her and strolled up the deck to inspect the work the crew were doing. A word here and a nod there made them feel secure.

Mari watched him go and got to her feet. Unsteadily she made her way to the side of the ship and reached out to grasp it for stability then turned her gaze upon the ocean. In the distance the island was just slipping over the horizon. Tears came unbidden to Mari's eyes. What had she done? Would she ever see her home again? Now there was nothing to see but the rolling waves rocking this ghastly little ship about. In her abject misery she did not notice all the wonders that were around. She did not see the gulls soaring around the masts, the dolphins playing in the bow wave. She did not notice the way the sun-sparkled water glittered all around. She could not see any of it through her tears. All she could think was how foolish she had been to make such a rash decision. No wonder her mother had said no. At the thought of her dear mama Mari put her head on her forearms and sobbed.

Marilla found her slumped against the side with tear stained cheeks and red swollen eyes. "Come now, Marilla. All will be well. Let's get you sorted and in the morning, we'll show you how we work here. I'll be needing your help more than ever. The boys keep us on our toes and the baby will take up much of my time," chatting away Marilla led the girl to her cabin and showed her where everything was.

The next morning Mari did feel marginally better. The large black man, Isaiah had given her more of his remedy and that settled her stomach somewhat. She asked but he refused to divulge what was in it, "secret family recipe," was all that he would say as he tapped his nose. "Liddle bit o' this and a liddle bit o' that," he said flashing his teeth, they seemed so very brightly white in his dark face. Initially she had been frightened, but now she was coming to understand how kind he was.

Mari had wanted nothing more than to stay in bed, the prospect of getting up did not appeal and she feigned slightly worse sickness than she felt. "Oh no you don't," said Marilla. "I know you want to stay here, but you have a job to do. You have to get up. We'll get you some breakfast." She looked at the girl going pale at the thought, "yes you'll feel better with some food in you and get you out into the fresh air. For today you just have to scrub the decks. I'll give you a bucket for the water and a bucket for yourself. You just have to keep moving, you can't succumb." *

It was a long day for both Marillas. Marilla Blythe had to keep her boys out of trouble and tend to the baby. Jacob and Johnny seemed determined to rediscover every nook and cranny they had missed while they had been on land. They zoomed around the deck getting into everything. The crew were good natured about it, but Marilla could see John getting increasingly frustrated by their antics. She wished she had eyes in the back of her head. Gilbert was a help but even with his assistance it proved a long and arduous day.

On the other hand, Mari Lynde spent her day with her head in one of two buckets. Much to her chagrin more than once she gotten them mixed up and had to ask a crewman to wash it out. At days' end she crawled into bed utterly spent and completely washed out knowing with a sinking heart that she'd have to do it all again tomorrow. Why o' why had she been so foolish?

* * *

Anne

* * *

Rachel stormed into the Green Gables kitchen shortly after Matthew and Anne arrived home. She had been watching out for their buggy and hurried up the laneway after them. "Now, now this won't do, it won't do at all," she said. "It's not right for a young girl to live alone with a bachelor as you well know Matthew. Anne may visit as often as I can spare her, but she must live with us." Anne looked across at Matthew in some panic, that was not what she had envisaged. Matthew opened his mouth to protest on her behalf, but Rachel was adamant, "no, I mean it. She may not stay here, what would the neighbours say? It's the lack of propriety that I worry about, that's what. Not that you'd do anything I'm sure," she softened momentarily, "but it looks unseemly." Anne made to gather Goliath up into her arms when Rachel interrupted, "no I will not have that animal in my house again. It's too messy and unruly. It can stay here with you, Matthew. Goodness knows you're used to living with enough animals already. Come Anne," she said imperiously. She stood by the door waiting for Anne to make her farewells and pushed her through the door. Anne had no choice but to go with her.

As they walked back down the laneway Rachel said. "Since my Marilla joined Mrs Blythe on that infernal ship I find myself without her help. You can assist me with my children instead. You may go to school if you like, but afterwards I will need you to fix dinner and put them to bed. Have you been to school before? Anne was rather in a state of shock, her plans were all going awry and she had barely listened to a word Rachel had spoken.

"I'm sorry," Anne said confused. "What was the question?"

"School. Have you been to school?" Rachel enunciated the words very precisely as if she were talking to an idiot. "Goodness child, I believe you were miles away, I hope you will pay better attention in future."

"Er, yes, at the asylum we were sent to school," Anne trailed off as she remembered long dull afternoons and strict, disinterested teachers, but she forced herself back to the present when she noticed Mrs Lynde was still talking. "... find some of Marilla's dresses for you. Goodness only knows what she'll find to wear on the ship. I don't think she'll fit into your clothes, you're smaller than she. Still I suppose..." Anne drifted off again. She put her hand up to stroke Goliath and realised that of course he was still up at Green Gables. Her shoulder felt empty without him there. He had been her constant companion since Mrs Blythe had bought him for her. What had she done? She had deserted kind Mrs Blythe and it was all for naught as her plans came unstuck in a matter of moments. She had not meant for this to happen. She had not wanted to trade a life of adventure for a life bound to the Lynde family. Despite herself a small sob escaped and Rachel looked at her curiously. "I should think you'd be happy with this arrangement. I can't imagine anything worse than being on a ship, you did well to escape. It was a bit devious to leave it to the last minute, but I admire you. And now you can help me," she patted Anne's hand, "and get yourself an education. I'm sorry I could not leave you with Mr Cuthbert, but you'd have to admit that was out of the question."

Standing on the beach watching the ship ride the anchor it had come to Anne quite suddenly that her place was with Mr Cuthbert, there had been not a shred of deviousness about it, but she did not want to be parted. She had never met anyone quite like him; in his quiet graceful way he had welcomed her on her own merit in a way that no one, not even Mrs Blythe had ever done. It had not occurred to her that they would not be allowed to stay together, and now she was stuck. She was not even permitted to keep the monkey. Poor Goliath, he would be so confused and she knew that Mr Cuthbert did not love the animal, but tolerated it for her sake. It seemed a lot to ask Mr Cuthbert to keep him.

She was unable to think about much of anything when they arrived at Lynde Hollow and Rachel handed her the baby and asked her to change her. A litany of chores followed and eventually after the dishes were washed and dried she fell into Marilla Lynde's bed and wondered why o' why had she been so foolish?

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> * If this sounds cruel it is what happened to me. Thankfully I never needed the second bucket.
> 
> A/N someone commented that there may be problems going forward if Anne were to be adopted. At this time adopted children were considered as close as biological ones, thus any relationship between her and Gilbert would be taboo. Guess that clears up one plot point, ie Anne will not be adopted.


	9. Chapter 9

It was only when Matthew picked up his chamber pot the next morning that he gave the monkey's toileting a moment's thought. A small perfectly formed dark turd lay in the bottom of the pot. Matthew shook it gently to check and it sloshed gently in his night water. Hmm, he thought appreciatively, just as well. "You've been well trained I see," he said to the monkey who eyed him warily from the rafters. "Shall we get some breakfast?" Feeling ridiculously self-conscious under its steady gaze, Matthew took off his nightshirt and got dressed. He reached out his hand for the animal, but it ignored him so with a shrug he made his way out to the kitchen. Out of the corner of his eye he could see it following. Rummaging around in the cellar he located an old apple, left over from the previous years' harvest and walked up to the kitchen juggling it between his hands.

"Will this do?" he asked. When there was no response he cut it up into quarters and placed it on the table. The monkey did not move. Matthew turned around to fix his own breakfast and was aware of movement behind him but did not react. When he did the apple was gone from the table. "Pretty sad for you", said Matthew conversationally, "to lose your mistress. She's a real nice little thing." Unsurprisingly the monkey did not reply.

He stirred his porridge then ladled it out into a bowl and topped it with a dollop of preserved blueberries. Absentmindedly he placed it on the table and turned to get some coffee. When he turned back with his cup of coffee in hand the monkey was gobbling it down, picking out the blueberries with its feet and delicately popping them into its mouth. "Oh, ho! porridge is it?" Matthew sighed, he supposed he'd have to share this batch. He fetched another bowl, ladled some more into it and offered Goliath a spoon. The monkey did not appear to be conversant with cutlery and continued to feed itself with its hands. Matthew ate alongside, but Goliath finished well before him and when he had done so he leapt onto the gas lamp causing it to yaw wildly and from there he climbed the chain and hung at the top, drumming the ceiling with his feet. Well now there's a new issue, thought Matthew as he scratched his head; scarlet footprints on the ceiling.

Goliath ignored him when he called to it so he changed tack saying, "well, gotta go to the barn now, coming?" It followed behind him with its unusual gait and swung up to the rafters when they entered. Its beady eyes watched him all day long while he milked the cows, forked hay, fixed a faulty cartwheel. It followed him around the barn keeping its distance but never venturing too far either. At lunch time it came back to the house with him and he gave it part of his sandwich. It was comical to watch it nibble like a little man.

Anne burst into the barn late in the afternoon her red hair splayed out behind her and the monkey raced over to her side. Matthew was interested in how animated it became in her presence. He realised it had been rather listless all day. The monkey chittered and chattered in her face as though it was having a proper conversation. Over it Anne said to Matthew, "I've got leave for an hour or so."

"Do you want some afternoon tea?" he asked. "I might be able to rummage something up."

"That's all right, I brought some cookies," Anne replied. The monkey was avidly searching her pockets for treats. "No Goliath, you have to wait," she chided gently. Together they made their way up to the house, Goliath riding easily on her shoulder looking as if he belonged there. In fact, Matthew thought her shoulder looked rather bare without it.

Afternoon tea was easily the best time of the day. Anne set out the teacups and made the tea but took a back seat when Goliath insisted on playing mother. He deftly poured the tea out between the cups barely spilling a drop and then daintily poured each one back into the pot and did it all again. Then using the tongs, he gave everyone a sugar cube, rather too much really because having served them one each he just kept going until there was no more left, hooting softly as he went. Rocking back on his haunches obviously satisfied, he watched while Matthew and Anne took up their now cold cups of over sugared tea. They sipped in false appreciation for really the stuff was undrinkable, but the monkey seemed so delighted with his work that it seemed churlish to deny him. For his part he drank his own tea with relish, smacking his lips after he downed his cup in one go. Matthew watched with some trepidation, but the monkey placed his teacup safely back down on the table with measured delicacy.

"What does he like to eat?" Matthew enquired.

"Really, bananas are his favourite," Anne started.

Matthew frowned, "never heard of them, what are they like."

Anne looked up at him, "oh yes, that's right no bananas on PEI I suppose. Well, um," she thought about how to descibe them to him. "They're yellow and curved and um they taste like, like um bananas. I can't compare them to anything. They're sweet and tangy I suppose," she trailed off dismally. "And he likes peanuts," she added.

"I've seen them for sale at the mercantile. They're pretty expensive," Matthew said. "I suppose they could be a special treat." Matthew glanced upwards, "he liked the blueberry jam with porridge for breakfast."

Anne followed his look and instantly apologised, "I am sorry. You bad boy, Goliath. You must leave Mr Cuthbert's ceilings alone."

"That's all right Anne. After all you helped me clean them once."

Sadly, Anne said she had to go, "Mrs Lynde just gave me leave to visit," she explained. "I still have to help her with dinner."

"Anne before you go, is Mrs Lynde sending you to school soon?"

"No," said Anne sadly turning around to look at him, her big grey eyes filling with tears. "She said she was too busy, I have to stay home to mind the children."

"Right," said Matthew resolutely, "let's go." Matthew despised discord he liked a simple life, but this poor wee waif jumped ship with a purpose in mind and he was damned if Rachel Lynde would get in her way entirely. He understood that Anne could not live with him, but that did not mean she had to be no more than an indentured servant.

He practiced his speech on the quick walk down to the Lynde house as Anne trotted beside him; aware that he was upset, but not entirely sure why. There were several children playing outside and they greeted him cheerily, Anne nodded at them, but Matthew was not in the mood for them today and strode past.

"Now look here Rachel," he said as he stormed through the front door followed by a mystified Anne. "What you're doing? It isn't right. You sent your Marilla to school. You must send Anne too."

"Matthew Cuthbert how dare you burst in here making demands. I was considering pulling Marilla out of school anyways I needed her at home with me. I see little point in educating a girl at her age. Learning to keep house is what she needs. An orphan girl has few enough prospects as it is." Rachel spoke as if Anne were not there, but Matthew was acutely aware that she was taking it all in.

"No," he countered, pulling her closer. "Anne expressed a desire for an education, and I promised her that I'd make it happen."

"Well you were foolish to make that promise Matthew, that's what."

Matthew stood firm. "I mean it, Anne must go to school. She can still help you out, but I can see no reason why that's not possible. And," continued Matthew in one of his longer speeches, "if she wants to come and visit Goliath and I," the monkey's ears pricked up at the sound of its name," she may do that too."

Rachel spluttered at him but gave way upon seeing the rare steel in his eyes. As inconvenient as it was, Rachel was in fact rather relieved that something had moved Matthew sufficiently to get his mettle up. She had been worried that the man would sink into his old ways once his sister departed. "Very well," she conceded. Turning her attention from Matthew to Anne she said, "I'll send you to school if you like, but you must still help me with the chores." Anne nodded. "I'll enrol you tomorrow if you like. Will that do?" she asked Matthew. He nodded his affirmation.

Anne escorted him out the door. Giving Goliath a kiss on his head she extracted herself from his clasp and watched as Matthew carried him away. Matthew noticed the previously animated monkey withdraw into itself. Sad, he thought they should be together, but he did not know how to manage it; he doubted Rachel would countenance small footprints on the ceiling or elsewhere come to think of it.

* * *

Ting ting the ship's bell sounded the time and the answering bell could be heard like an echo down towards the bow. The moon cast its reflection like diamonds scattered over the sea. The watch was changing, John handed command over to his first mate and made his way below decks where it was stifling. John knelt down to kiss his boys' goodnight breathing in the heady mix of their sweet breath and salty hair. Jacob was snuggled into Johnny's side as usual, one pudgy foot escaping the sheets. They always feared he'd suffocate but no matter how deeply asleep he was when they moved him, he'd always find his way back.

Marilla sighed when he lay down next to her and murmured, "mmm?"

"It's nothing, go back to sleep my love." He considered her sleeping form for a moment. She slept in very little, with just a sheet as covering. With his wife by his side John believed he was the happiest man in the world. Leaving her still white form in Rachel's spare bed had been the hardest thing he'd ever done. He had no choice, not really. If he wanted to care for his family, he knew there was nothing better he could do for her. Rachel would care for her as if she were her one of her own. Yet his heart broke as he walked away from the house. It took all his will not to turn around and kneel by her side. Resolutely he made his way back to the ship and sailed away vowing to return as soon as he was able. He had tried unsuccessfully to hide his misgivings from the men, but he was sure they knew how wrought up he was.

Heart in mouth he had eventually made his way back to Avonlea praying that she would be well upon his return. Thomas Lynde's curt greeting filled him with unlooked for hope and he had no words to express his sheer joy at finding her safe and recovered; all he could do was hold her tight and cry into her shoulder. Even now he could not quite believe his luck and kept glancing in the direction of his strong and brave and beautiful wife. He did not deserve anyone so marvellous.

Marilla moaned quietly and he turned his head on the pillow to regard her barely able to see a thing in the dark cabin. "S' hot," she said sleepily. With one quick movement John gathered her sheet and all in his arms and carried her out onto the deck. The slight zephyr revived her somewhat and she clasped the sheet about her chest with a giggle. "John, we can't," she complained, but he could tell her heart wasn't in it.

They had an alcove, some might call it a secret though the entire crew knew about it but honoured their privacy, and he took her to it now. It was tucked away near the bow on the port side. The First Mate noticed the billowing white sheet and averted his eyes. What the captain did in the privacy of his space on this hot night was his own affair; which is not to say he was unenvious.

John laid Marilla down on some old sheeting they had there for just this purpose and stretched out next to her, "better?"

"Mm, absolutely," she whispered. "The only problem is the baby. What if I don't hear her?"

"Shh, leave that to Mari. She'll manage."

Marilla nodded in the moonlight and snuggled close. Cradled together in the comforting embrace of the rocking ship they were completely content.


	10. Chapter 10

Mari was woken early by the sound of the baby crying incessantly. Usually Aunt Marilla or the captain would fetch her first thing, so Mari tried to close her eyes again. But this morning that did not appear to be happening and Susanna continued to wail in an increasing crescendo. Sighing heavily Mari made her way through the gloomy cabin to the bassinet. Rather than greeting it she just picked her up and changed the diaper, plonking the soiled one in a handy bucket and took the baby in to see her mother. It was unusual for Marilla not to be awake already and Mari feared something was amiss. She stood in the cabin doorway and gaped; the bed was unmade and empty.

Dawn's rosy glow stretched out across the breathless sea when John awoke with a start, an answering bell responded in the bow, perhaps the initial one had woken him? Yawning he looked across at Marilla's lax face made pink by the rising sun. Another hot day beckoned the doldrums were well named; one just had to wait it out as frustrating as it was. The sails flapped uselessly in the light wind and the ship felt as though it was taking a breath before the day began. He was pleased that Marilla slept still, she had endured too many broken nights courtesy of young Susanna. As gorgeous as she was, she was no fan of long nights. Grimacing, he quickly shimmied into his clothes and made his way below decks.

Susanna's pitiful cries were counterbalanced by Mari's attempts to soothe her. "Sorry," he said. "We snuck up on deck in the middle of the night. Give her to me. Why don't you take a break before the boys awaken?" Mari nodded gratefully and handed the squalling infant over. Stunned momentarily at the change and comforted by the smell of her father Susanna briefly ceased her cries, but her face was still red and scrunched ready to start up again. John carried her carefully up the ladder and made his way to the alcove. He barely had to touch Marilla's shoulder when she came to at the first cry.

"Oh, darling come here now, Mama's got you, sweet one." John watched as she put the screeching baby to her breast, the upper lip searching desperately. They sighed with relief when she latched on and silence fell. All that could be heard now was the suck and pull of the waves against the hull and the faint sound of the baby swallowing. He loved to watch her mouth pull on the teat and swallow, pull swallow, pull swallow in a ceaseless cycle as she drank her fill contentedly. But he had places to be and a job to do. They had to get out of the doldrums and be on their way. After a brief spell he kissed both his girls on the tops of their heads and went down to get himself ready for the day.

Marilla watched him go, calling after him to bring up some clothes. Once the baby finished, she needed to get off the deck with some semblance of decorum. Lying there in their special spot she felt true contentment; their change of location had helped her sleep and now with the baby at her breast on such a stunning morning she was at peace. The ship moved barely at all which she knew frustrated John, but to be honest she did not mind overmuch. It provided a nice respite in their long life of constant movement. Everything was just that little bit easier on a steadier platform. Down in the water she could hear a plopping as if some large creature had come up to watch. Unable to rise in her current situation she could only speculate, but from the sound it was probably a dolphin, they did see them in these parts on occasion. She could hear the blow out and subsequent suck in of a blowhole as it took a few deep breaths before descending back to the depths.

Susanna pulled away suddenly distracted by the noise her eyes wide, unfortunately taking the nipple with her. Marilla frowned at the sudden pain and using her forefinger unclenched the baby's mouth. She was due to swap sides anyway. Rubbing her breast to ease the sting she resettled the baby only looking up when Mari appeared. The girl had ignored the crew's lewd comments when she appeared on deck with a spare dress and had picked her way through the ropes and general debris to find her mistress. "Are the boys still asleep?" Marilla asked. When Mari nodded her affirmation Marilla added, "sit with me awhile, it's such a beautiful morning. I think we had an aquatic visitor just a moment ago. If you look over the side, you might see it."

Mari peered over the edge and saw it below, a largish animal with a blunt nose like and yet unlike a dolphin. "What is it, Aunt Marilla. It doesn't look like a dolphin it's flippers are wrong, and it has an odd fat lip."

Marilla smiled, "it's a seacow. Once upon a time, sailors mistook them for mermaids if you can believe it."

"Mermaids?" said Mari frowned back over her shoulder at Marilla, disbelief evident in her voice.

"They must have been a little crazed don't you think. At sea for too long perhaps? Or suffering from scurvy?"

Mari gazed back down at the seacow as it lolled on the surface and nodded.

"There that's you sorted little one," Marilla said as Susanna disengaged. She wiped a drop of pearly milk off her chin with the bottom of her nightgown and said, "here can you take her while I get dressed? Then it'll time to wake those sleepy boys." She pulled the dress towards her and put it over her head so her next words were a bit muffled, "sorry I wasn't there when she woke, Mari. I hope you weren't concerned."

"Um," Mari paused then remembered herself. She had been worried, but she didn't want Marilla to know that. "No, it was fine."

Marilla could hear the hesitation in her voice and when she emerged, she reiterated her contrition, "no we must have given you a shock. I do apologise. It was just so hot down there I could barely breathe. If you ever find we've gone, you'll find us up here. This little nook is our escape." Together they turned and made their way back to the boys' cabin. "Mermaids?" Mari repeated still stunned anyone could mistake those ungainly sea creatures for the svelte and stunning mythical creatures she had heard tell about; behind her Marilla laughed in collegiate bemusement.

\-----

At some point in the night Matthew had stirred when he felt a small hand on his cheek. He'd rolled over in the dark and the animal had followed nestling under his chin for warmth. He'd been vaguely aware but was too sleepy to care. In any case he had rather missed sleeping with his stock. He'd booted them out of the house when Marilla came home, but he'd missed their collective sighs and snores. It seemed so very quiet and still without them all to keep him company.

He woke up to find the monkey had relocated to the top of his head and was now intent upon tickling him with its long thin fingers. He couldn't see but it seemed very intent upon its work. There would be a tickling sensation as it moved his hair out of the way and investigated then there would be a pause until it started again. The sensation was unique but not unpleasant. The animal was nothing if not meticulous at whatever he was doing and Matthew lay there for a while enjoying the process. Eventually though he heard the deep lowing of the cattle and he knew his day was due to begin.

He found he kept up a running commentary for the monkey as though it was necessary to explain his routine. "Got to milk the cows every morning," he said to it as it rode his shoulder to the barn. "The poor ladies get grumpy if I'm late." He did feel sorry for them when their udders strained with the milk. He fancied he could hear their complaint in their moos. "Now I'll just take this bucket up to the house." He felt a bit foolish really, as if Goliath cared about his routine, but it was company and somehow, he felt like it was a little child, so human like was he.

"He was grooming you," explained Anne after breakfast. She had dropped in on her way to school as had become her new habit. She would get the Lynde children dressed and fed before she ran off yelling over her shoulder to Rachel that she didn't want to be late. They would follow shortly afterwards and would always be surprised that they got to school before she did.

"Grooming?" Matthew asked.

"Yes, it's his way of telling you he likes you. He's looking for the salt left behind by your dried sweat and the odd bug."

Matthew rubbed his head, "ain't no bugs in my hair."

"No, I suppose not. Well you can be safe in the knowledge that if ever there were Goliath would eat them, wouldn't you boy?" Anne said with a smile as she chucked the small animal under its chin.

"I think he slept with me too," remarked Matthew a tad shyly.

Anne's smile lit up her whole face, "oh, Matthew I am delighted to hear that. I think he's really settling down. That news fills me with rapture because I just hated leaving him, but now I feel he's found a kindred spirit in you." She looked at the monkey and said, "Goliath I must say you have excellent taste for Mr Cuthbert is a gentleman I hold in high regard."

Matthew blushed and timidly said, "folks just call me Matthew. Reckon I'd be happy if you did too, Anne. Mr Cuthbert sounds so formal, makes me think of my father."  
Anne took another piece of toast from the plate and asked, "what was he like, your father?"

Matthew scratched his nose and replied, "gruff. Papa was taciturn. Wouldn't have approved of no monkey living here that's for sure and certain," he smiled and scratched the animal on the top of its head. He imagined his father's reaction to a monkey hanging off the lamp in the Green Gables kitchen; just the thought was enough to make him smile with a glint in his eyes. He had never defied his father while he lived, but now that he was gone Matthew was free to welcome any animal, stock or pet into the house.

Anne watched the interplay of emotions cross Matthew's face. He had been amused she could see, but now his countenance changed, and he looked more solemn. She was silent as she believed see he was remembering his past.

She was correct, Matthew was recalling the time Marilla ran away. He had cowered in the barn while his father railed against Marilla, against John Blythe who he threatened to kill if he found him, and against the authorities who refused to chase after them.

_Raucous laughter filled the kitchen as his mama and Michael laughed uproariously at some shared joke while a young Matthew looked on mystified but happy because they so obviously were. Their merriment was dying away when his father walked in and gruffly asked what the joke was. That made them laugh again at his incomprehension; even if he had wanted to he'd never have gotten the joke anyways. Mr Cuthbert was not known for his sense of humour. Matthew looked back and forth between his parents; his father's stern expression and his mother alight with merriment._

The scene shifted then to a time after Michael had died. _Mrs Cuthbert thought him asleep, but through slitted eyes Matthew saw her standing in the doorway wearing just her white nightgown with bare feet, matted dark hair tumbling over her shoulders. She stared at nothing for a long moment before turning and padding out of the room. Matthew released the breath he had been holding._

The light went out of her life when Michael was killed, no more did she smile regardless of how Matthew tried to make her. She just lay in her bed as if part of her died in the cannery along with her boy.

Anne watched as Matthew pulled himself together, he looked across at her, "sorry Anne, I went away there for a little bit."

"That's all right Mr er Matthew. I better be getting on to school anyways." She waved him and Goliath good-bye as she made her way through the gate and on to school.


	11. Chapter 11

It was a night like any other. The ship rocked back and forth on the ceaseless inky sea while in their cabin John and Marilla talked. Marilla always found the gentle swaying very soothing, as if she were back in the cradle. The movement lulled her to sleep, but she fought it off as long as she could unwilling to lose a moment’s conversation with her beloved. 

“Do you remember that night?” asked John as he glanced over at Susanna’s bassinet where she lay sleeping. 

“Which night?”

“When she was born?”

“Not much I was pretty out of it. I remember the pain of her birth, that sort of thing never truly leaves you, you know.”

John nodded, “well, I know I’ll never forget it.” 

Marilla snuggled into his side, “I bet you never thought you’d be catching your own baby?”

“No, though as ships’ captain you know you’ll be doing all sorts.”

“I suppose so. What was it like?”

“You mean catching her?”

Marilla nodded, “I’ve never seen it from that angle before, what does it look like?”

“Oh, first of all you see a little bit of hair through the gap. It’s all wet but there’s such promise in that tiny piece of humanity; trepidation too of course. I was worried for you and for Susanna.”

“Though of course we didn’t know it was Susanna yet.”

“Of course not. Isn’t that strange,” John glanced back. “We hadn’t met her yet.”

“Yet she had already made her presence known,” Marilla smiled. “Go on.”

“What? Oh yes, you pushed a bit more.”

“I didn’t have much choice; the urge is strong.”

“I’m sure, and then a little bit more of her came and I could see the back of her head, but you had yet to deliver her shoulders. I have to say you were fairly vocal, do you recall?”

Marilla shook her head, “not really. I don’t know how present I was. I must have been very involved in the moment, you know. Not particularly aware of anything else.”

“Anne was there of course, she was wiping your brow and murmuring encouraging words, but I kept her away from the business end, so to speak.”

“Good, she didn’t have to see that.”

“Uh huh and she wasn’t particularly keen, but it was useful to have her around.”

“Where were the boys?”

“I think the Mate and Isaiah kept them entertained, at least that’s what they told me afterwards while we were waiting for the doctor at Rachel’s house. Jacob had knotted some rope. He had it in his pocket ready to show me when we got a moment.”

Marilla could feel sleep overtaking her, but she was keen to hear the end of the story. “Then what?”

“Well Susanna slivered out in a rush, all covered in that waxy stuff. Catch is the right word because they’re very slippery. I was afraid I’d drop her. You looked at her briefly and then when you started delivering the afterbirth that’s when the trouble started.”

“It’s all a bit hazy.”

“I’m sure, we lost you shortly after. I was about to panic, but Anne was very level-headed. She handed the baby to the Mate and together we got you wrapped up as best we could. Land wasn’t far off and we got you off the ship and over to Rachel’s. I suppose …”

“Sh love, we’ve been over that part. It was the right thing to do.”

John bestowed a kiss on her forehead, “yes I know, Rachel said the same thing.”

“Of course, she did.” 

John felt Marilla lapse into slumber, her face went lax and her body was a dead weight on his chest. Gently he rolled her over to her side of the bed and lay down next to her and listened to the steady sound of her breathing thanking the good lord above for her safety.

* * *

“No, I don’t want to.”

“It’ll be fine.”

“Tell them I won’t do it.”

“It’s not up to me. You don’t have a choice.”

“I refuse,” Mari said crossing her arms resolutely. 

“If you do that it’ll go worse for you. The crew will not be put off, it’s bad luck.”

“Make them.”

“It’s not in our hands. The Captain won’t be able to stop it.”

“It’s not fair,” Mari sobbed.

“Come now,” Marilla gathered the girl into her arms. “It isn’t nearly as bad as you think.”

“Did you have to?”

“When it was my turn I did. If I wanted to stay on board with John, I had no choice. I was a bit trepidatious beforehand, like you; but it wasn’t that bad really.” Mari hiccupped in her arms. “And how do you think I could face your mother if I let anything terrible happen to you?” 

Mari smiled a little through her tear stained eyes, “I suppose.”

“Of course not.” 

“But what will they do?”

“It changes every time, so I’m not sure. And that’s part of it, the unknowing.”

“Can’t you just tell me a little bit?”

“No, if King Neptune found out and he is a god after all, then the whole ship might be in trouble. I can’t take that risk.”

“You don’t, I mean you don’t really believe it, do you?”

“I’m not in a position to wholly disbelieve it. So much of what we face is dependent upon luck. We use every avenue at our disposal.”

“Do you promise I’ll be all right then?”

“I do. You have to go through with it, but it won’t be that bad, I expect.”

It started first thing in the morning. After a sleepless night tossing and turning Mari heard a knock at the cabin door. It was so tempting to lie there playing dumb, but she supposed she had better get on with it. Marilla had reassured her that she would be safe enough, though her ‘I expect’ still weighed on Mari’s mind. 

“C’mon pollywog,” ordered a shirtless man in a bizarre collection of clothing; She had little time to think as she was marched to the poop deck where a crew member, who may or may not have been the Mate, stood dressed in a long stringy wig of seaweed with some sort of a crown on top and holding a trident was surrounded by his attendants; Davy Jones and his wife Queen Amphitrite. Other members of the ship’s company including Marilla and the boys who were positively fizzing with excitement, watched on. Mari looked at Gilbert who grinned consolingly at her. 

Mari stood quaking before King Neptune, next to her stood the new cabin boy. It looked as though his ordeal had started rather earlier and he looked somewhat the worse for wear. He positively swayed next to her, his face contorted in abject fear. “Don’t worry,” she whispered to him. “The captain won’t let anything bad happen.” The boy shot a look of contempt towards John and muttered, “he cain’t do nuthin’.” Davy Jones forced them both to their knees commanding them to bow to the king. 

They forced her to drink some disgusting concoction which did not taste so bad at first until a bolt of heat hit the back of her throat and somehow it grew hotter as time passed. Initially Mari coughed discretely but she grew increasingly uncomfortable and soon was coughing to gain her breath. That did not stop the mummery and they washed her hair in some funky unguent which smelt unpleasantly like fowl manure. 

Marilla intervened at that point, saying “you’ve had enough fun with her now,” as she led the distressed girl away leaving the poor cabin boy to accept his fate.

“Marilla,” Mari lay in her bunk and wailed as she made hawking sounds.

“Uh oh,” said Marilla as she fetched the empty chamber pot, she rubbed the girl’s back as she vomited nothing much into the void. “I’ll just go and talk to Isaiah, wait here,” she instructed. Mari lay on the bed in abject misery. Her throat stung still, and her stomach felt as though a herd of cows had trampled over it. 

Peering into the dark mess Marilla struggled to find Isaiah initially but when he smiled at her his white teeth positively glowed in the gloom. 

“Say, what did you put it?” Marilla asked him. She did not take him to task for it did not do to get into his bad books.

“Jus’ the usual stuff, Mistress Blythe,” he explained. “Bit o’this and a bit o’that.”

“She’s not well.” 

The cook made a noncommittal noise, “she seemed to take it happily enough.”

“Have you anything that’ll ease her pain?” Marilla received a container of milk mixed with raw egg and a hunk of stale bread. Nodding at Isaiah Marilla made her way back to the stricken girl. 

“Oh Marilla,” Mari held her stomach. “It’s sore.”

“Sh, sh, here you go, try this.” Mari took the drink and sipped in some trepidation. “Better?” Marilla asked.

“Mm, a bit maybe?” Mari replied slowly sipping some more. It was true it was making her throat feel less angry. 

Mari caught up with the cabin boy the next day he was a sight with roughly shaved hair. He told her what else he’d had to endure after Marilla had rescued her. He’d been dunk in water repeatedly, they’d shaved and tarred him and locked him in one of the cabins. “But at least I got my certificate now,” he said proudly. 

“Do I get one too?” Mari asked. 

“Dunno?” 

The Mate saw the two of them conversing and handed an ornately drawn certificate to Mari which stated that she had passed muster and now would enjoy all the luck King Neptune could confer upon her. “Hope we didn’t upset you too much, Miss,” he said. “You’re a regular shellback now, safe from the denizens of the deep.” Mari examined the document closely taking note of the beautiful artwork and fancy words thereon. She supposed, burping slightly, that it was worth it.

* * * 

John gathered Susanna up into his arms and took her into Marilla, holding her for a moment longer than necessary suddenly unwilling to let go of his precious baby. She squirmed out of his arms when she smelt Marilla’s milk. 

“I’m trying her on solids today,” Marilla said as the baby latched on. “It’s time.”

“Hard to believe,” John murmured. 

“I know it does seem strange. I’m not sure how she managed it, but Rachel managed to balance her on me to feed while I was unconscious.”

“If anyone could manage that, it would be Rachel,” John laughed. 

“Don’t I know it!” Marilla stroked the baby’s forearm as she suckled. “I just love this bicep don’t you.” John had never taken much notice before, but he watched Marilla intently as she traced her fingernail up and down the delineation of muscle. 

“I have to go,” said John reluctantly. He hated to leave, they just looked so peaceful lying there together; but it didn’t do to have the Captain late to work. 

Later, at lunch they continued their conversation. “You know when I apologised to Rachel, she told me I’d done the right thing really,” John said. 

“When you dropped me off?”

“Mm hm,” said John. “Thomas wasn’t happy, but I think Rachel gave him a piece of her mind.”

“Poor Thomas,” said Marilla. 

John laughed, “I thought so too at the time even though he was not best pleased with me.”

John walked off down the deck and Marilla sat under the shade the crew had created for her thinking of the first time she’d managed to nurse the baby unaided. Ridiculous really but she’d felt such a sense of accomplishment at the time. 

After their long voyage their next port was Cape Town and she was eagerly anticipating all that they might find there. Exotic sights, tastes and people. Rachel might prefer dry land, but as far as Marilla was concerned this was the life for her and she was excited to share it with her younger namesake. Anne had embraced all that the world had to offer and she hoped that Mari would too.


	12. Chapter 12

Mari thought there was nothing she particularly liked about her current position but after a while she found she enjoyed the few moments she caught with Isaiah each day. His pots and pans swayed in a constant symphony providing a tuneful background to their conversation. One afternoon she mentioned her initial reaction. "I'm sorry," she said.

"What for?" he asked in his mellifluous voice.

"I was rude when we first met."

"You were," he replied bluntly. "It is sad to say that I am almost used to it, but I appreciate your apology."

"I had never seen anyone of your … complexion before," Mari stammered. "I was scared."

"I understand. It happens all the time," Isaiah said stirring that night's stew sending up a strong aroma as it gently boiled over the heat.

"What are you cooking?" Mari enquired, sniffing the unfamiliar scent.

"Tonight, it's cou cou," he explained.

"Cou cou?"

"Yes, I caught some fish today and they go well together.

"But what is it?"

"It's delicious, that's what it is," said Isaiah unwilling to give away his recipe. "Everyone loves it." Mari looked into the pot and crumpled up her nose. "Well no one's ever complained," said Isaiah. Given the size of the man, Mari wasn't surprised. Isaiah might be a gentle giant, but he was still a giant.

After weeks with nothing to see but the endless waves Mari's heart quickened when she heard the loud call from the crow's nest, "Land Ho!" It was barely more than a smudge at first, so low she thought it might be no more than stormy clouds scudding along the horizon. Gradually as they sailed closer it gained shape, becoming over the course of the day a tall blueish peak towering over a small town in white below. It was a mountain unlike any she'd ever imagined though. In picture books, which were all the ones Mari had ever seen, mountains were tall triangular shaped edifices. This one was anything but with a flat table like summit. As it turned out Mari was not the first to think so as she found out when they named it Tabletop Mountain to her.

The port of Cape Town was well provisioned. The ship had taken a battering on the way down the African coast. As a result, after conferring with the shipping agent, John had arranged for some repair work to be undertaken before they continued their voyage. It would take a few weeks, which gave Marilla and the children some time to explore the town and surrounding countryside.

Isaiah stood in the market pausing for a brief moment drinking it all in. The sights, the sounds, the smells and most wonderful of all the anonymity. Isaiah was used to the second glances and stares when people first saw him. As he'd explained to Miss Mari, it happened all the time; which did not make it any less unwelcome. But here he blended in and no one gave him a second glance. He might be thousands of miles from whence his people came, but for the first time in a long while he felt at home.

This first time he had only to buy a few fresh provisions. The Captain and his family would be staying on land for a few weeks leaving him and the crew to oversee the repairs. Isaiah had no idea what they would be doing while they were away and did not much care. If he could go to the docks, meet a few women perhaps and enjoy himself; he would be content.

Johnny and Gilbert had been playing rock paper scissors in the back to pass the time as it had been a while since they'd seen anything of interest when their cart came to an unexpected halt forcing everyone to jolt forward.

Safari had been Gilbert's idea. He had been talking of little else since before they arrived. The shipping agent had been happy to set them up with a tour guide and they had repacked their bags and set off. Fortunately, it was not far, Cape Town was not a large town. Gilbert had hitherto only seen pictures of large animals in books. Today giraffe, elephant, rhinoceros, hippopotamus, then monkeys, gazelle, unattractive wildebeest and warthogs had all made their appearance; but they had yet to see a lion.

An elephant herd had silenced them, even little Jacob had ceased his chatter at the sight. Marilla had not believed quite how large they could be; no description could match their grandeur and she hugged the boys close. They spied a herd of perhaps twenty, of various sizes and ages. The bull so much larger than the females. Marilla blushed at the size of its appendage swinging every time the animal took a step. She tried to divert the boys' attention by pointing out its trunk, but little Jacob, bless his heart asked innocently why the big one had five legs. Thankfully they had ambled past barely taking any notice of their cart. Their guide had been quite tense throughout the encounter. He told Marilla afterwards that sometimes the animals get territorial and charge. Marilla shuddered at the thought of those menacing tusks pointed towards her in anger. A baby suckled from its mother, its stubby trunk forever getting in the way which made them all laugh as it its antics afterwards; it reminded Marilla of Johnny getting into mischief and taunting its elders.

That had been about an hour before and the excitement had waned as the cart travelled through an unremitting sea of yellow grass with the occasional thicket or flat branched tree standing sentinel all alone, all that they could hear was the unremitting chirping of crickets, and an occasional caark of a crow under a cloudless sky.

When they came to their unannounced halt Gilbert cried out, "why did we stop?" but he quickly hushed when John silently pointed up an embankment to their left. About three yards away a lioness yawned luxuriously showing off its massive eye teeth and licking its bloody lips with a long pink tongue. She reminded Gilbert of the ship's cat after it had caught a rat. A wildebeest's carcass guts spilling out from its bloody ribcage lay in the grass next to her. Her tail acted as the perfect fly-swat, when she waved it near the carcass flies lifted in a black mass only to resettle a moment later. In the trees surrounding thousands of vultures waited patiently drawn, the guide whispered, by the smell of death.

"Oh," said Gilbert, his mouth a perfect circle. Johnny looked like he was about to cry out so Gilbert clamped his mouth shut with the palm of his right hand and pulled him close. Behind him Gilbert could just hear the click of the guard's gun as he cocked it ready to shoot should the need arise. They watched for a while, the horses panicking. Marilla could hear their breath snorting and see their beading sweat.

"Everyone seen enough?" the guide asked. They nodded, when he released the reins the horses walked off eagerly, breaking into a trot further off. When they got further away, they were able to let go a collective breath. "Well Gilbert, I hope you're satisfied. You wanted to see a lion. I doubt many people have got that close and lived to tell the tale," John said. Gilbert nodded still lost for words. "Are you ladies all right? Marilla? Mari?"

Mari looked close to tears and Marilla said to her, "that's a story to share with your family, eh. Don't see many lions in Avonlea."

"No," Mari gasped.

"Maybe the women we met were right to counsel against coming," Marilla said.

"Did they?" John asked as the horses trotted back to town. Marilla thought back to an afternoon tea the shipping agent's wife had invited her to in a show of hospitality.

They had sat around a coffee table the local ladies in their finery, the fashion slightly out of date as you might expect. Marilla's announcement that they planned on taking a trip into the interior to see some wild animals was met with a frosty silence. One woman, looking severely down her nose said in her clipped accent, "ladies do not go bush."

"White woman, I daresay they meant," John said thoughtfully. "I'm sure plenty of African women come without anyone taking much notice. Well we know you are made of sterner stuff darling. I reckon none of those ladies ever rounded The Horn." Marilla looked across to him and grinned. "That's true enough. Us Islanders are made of tough stuff, eh Mari?" she said swivelling around. She reached out and patted the girl on her knee. "And you lived to tell the tale."

"Yes, I suppose so," Mari said quietly. Just privately their escapade had been rather more terrifying than she had expected but this daredevil family had not batted an eyelid. She felt more alone than ever and wished that she were safely back home with her family.

Isaiah caught the eye of a pretty young girl sitting by herself in the crowded café. She had a beautiful dark complexion and a sweet smile. Cape Town had its fair share of brothels and Isaiah had enjoyed himself, but that had been passion no more. This girl looked more refined than those low women. "May I take this seat?" he asked politely. She looked up at him and at all the people around. Their being no spare she nodded up at him and watched as he clumsily concertinaed himself into the small chair, somewhat hanging over the edges. When he had stopped Isaiah grinned at her saying, "my apologies these itty-bitty chairs ain't quite big for me."

"So, I see," she said with such a lovely voice that Isaiah felt warm to his toes. Without thought he stuck out his hand and introduced himself, "Isaiah Brown." She looked rather shocked at the massive paw in front of her, but daintily took it in her small hand and shook it lightly saying, "Mthunzi. Forgive me for saying Isaiah, but you don't look or sound like you are from Cape Town."

He laughed in delight at her sweet voice then replied, "no, indeed ma'am I'm from Trinidad."

"Trinidad?" she said questioningly. "Where is that?"

"Way across the ocean," he said waving his arm expressively narrowly missing a tray bearing waitress. She giggled demurely at his clumsiness and watched as he pulled his arm back in embarrassment apologising to the waitress. She came back a moment later hoping to get his order and then rid of him as soon as possible. The café wasn't quite big enough for giants like him.

"I will take tea, please," he said.

"Rooibos?" she said impatiently.

"I beg your pardon?" he said confused.

"Yes, rooibos," Mthunzi interjected on his behalf. "A pot and two cups please, and some cake." The waitress tsked rudely and stalked off.

"What have I just ordered?" Isaiah asked.

"South African tea, rooibos," Mthunzi explained. "It's a local speciality I think you will like it. Tell me about your travels, Isaiah. I am very interested to hear where you have been."

While they waited Isaiah briefly told her about life on board the ship, his fellow crewmates. Though he did not say so in so many words Mthunzi could hear his loneliness. "Are you happy?" she asked him.

He looked at her. He had been so caught up in his stories that he had forgotten his audience for a moment. "Happy? I, ah yes, I suppose I'm …" he trailed off. "I mean I have friends on board… I."

"If you don't mind a stranger saying, you sound lonely." She looked up as the waitress served their food rudely plonking their cutlery and cups down and sloshing the tea.

"Well everyone on a ship is a bit I suppose." Isaiah nodded as Mthunzi offered to pour the tea. He continued, "the captain is happy enough; he has his wife and family, but the rest of us are single men. We all get a bit lonely."

"Are there other men of colour on board?"

"No, just me. I'm the only one." He sipped his tea appreciating the unfamiliar taste. "Can we buy more of this in the market?" he asked her.

She laughed, "if you like it, it is available everywhere. I will show you."

It appeared that Mthunzi was well known. If Isaiah had enjoyed his anonymity in the market the first time he visited, in her presence the store traders lit up with offers. "Mthunzi, fish?" "Mthunzi, mangos!" "Mthunzi, meat!" but she ignored them and lead Isaiah to her favourite tea stall. "This gentleman is a recent convert to rooibos," she explained. "And he would like to buy some."

With her advice, Isaiah was able to purchase a good amount for the next stage of his journey and she made sure he got a good price too. They stood outside the market afterwards unable to think of an excuse to stay together but unwilling to part. "Would you like to see my ship?" Isaiah blurted out. "You probably have somewhere else you need to be." It occurred to him as he spoke that he had learnt nothing about her other than her name and the tea she drank. "It's a quick drive down to the docks and on the way, you can tell me about yourself."

They chatted on their way down the street. At one point, Mthunzi glanced across at Isaiah and noticed that she had lost him. She glanced around and found him staring into the window of an art shop. She doubled back and stood next to him. He pulled himself out of his reverie when he felt her by his elbow. "Sorry, I just like to window shop. They're so beautiful."

It turned out that Mthunzi worked as maid for a minor Zulu princess. She told him that she was often sent to the market and that was how she knew all the traders. They chatted happily on their ride down to the docks and alighted at the crowded dock.

The Jonathan Swift had seen better days, her top mast had been stripped and the rigging was all over the place. Apologising for its looks Isaiah took a most intrigued Mthunzi for a tour, dodging debris and various local workmen. The white foreman somewhat bravely accosted him, but Isaiah was able to talk him down, explaining that he was the ship's cook. Silently the workmen downed tools when they heard the foreman's raised voice. In a pause he noticed that he and Isaiah were not alone and wisely backed down politely asking them to leave when they had finished their tour.

"Would you like to have dinner with me?" Isaiah blurted out when they had disembarked.

"I would love to, but I must get back. My mistress will be missing me. We are going on a trip in few days' time and I must help her get packed," Mthunzi said. "But," she added when he looked crestfallen, "I very much enjoyed meeting you Isaiah. I hope we may meet again some day."

"May I, may I write you?" Isaiah said hesitantly.

"You may," said Mthunzi kindly and she wrote her address down on a scrap of paper and handed it to him. "I look forward to hearing from you."

Isaiah stood watching her carriage make its way up the road towards Cape Town but did not glance at the scrap she had given him. He had a sinking feeling because he had promised something he could not deliver. Isaiah had never learned to read or write and but now somehow, he would have to.

A few days later his dread was somewhat assuaged when the Mate delivered a neat package into his hands. Wonderingly he opened it up to find a beautiful box of paints, brushes and some parchment. The Mate knew he was illiterate and kindly read out the note for him. "'For my favourite artist, may he find inspiration on the seven seas.' That's a generous friend you've found," the Mate said. Isaiah nodded his thanks and carried his box away to reverently unpack in private.

Finally, the ship was ready. The cargo was loaded in the hold and the Blythes had reboarded full of stories of their adventures; the lion in particular grew each time Johnny recounted the tale. Marilla wondered if it would soon rival the elephant for size.

John gave the order to cast away to the Mate and swelled with pride as he heard it repeated down the ship. They watched as the sails unfurled and the ship slowly slipped out of port and away. In a few hours the last sight of Table Mountain slipped beyond the horizon and before them lay nothing but the sea swelling until Australia. But that was not their destination this time; instead they were bound for the mysterious Orient.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> The lioness was real, but fortunately for me I was in a rather more secure and faster vehicle. Still we were speechless when the truck stopped and the lioness was about 3 metres away.


	13. Chapter 13

Isaiah had a new passion and a new concern. Having told Mthunzi he would write he felt he had to honour that promise but he had no idea how to manage it. There was no one on board he felt comfortable enough to ask to scribe on his behalf. His fellow crew members would scoff or at least were too busy.

It was a subdued Isaiah Mari met one morning shortly after they left Cape Town. "What's the matter?" she asked when he quietly handed over the boys' lunch. Usually they had a quick banter but today he hardly said two words. "Nothing, Miss Mari," he said, unwilling to burden the girl.

"No, Isaiah, you're not yourself. Tell me?"

"It's just I said I would do something but it's not possible. I hate to go back on my word," he explained without really telling the girl anything.

"I'm confused," Mari said narrowing her eyes. "What did you say you'd do?"

"I said I'd write someone back in Cape Town."

"Oh," realisation was dawning in Mari's mind. "And why can't you?"

Isaiah hung his head, "I can't."

"Can't what?"

"Write. I ain't never learnt see. So, I said I would write but I can't."

"Is this the woman who gave you the paint box?" the Mate had mentioned it to her shortly after they sailed but Isaiah had not said anything.

"Yes," he admitted reluctantly.

"May I see them?"

Isaiah pulled the box out from under his bench and shyly showed the paints to Mari. "They're beautiful." She thought for a moment. "Could you send her some paintings instead of writing?"

The man's very physique altered in front of her eyes as he thought her idea through. "I guess I could do that?" he faltered.

"Of course, you could. She'd love that."

Henceforth in idle moments Isaiah could be seen with his paints and a scrap of paper committing a scene to paper. The ever changing colours of the sea was a favourite, or men working up in the rigging, backs bowed over the masts. He committed any sight to paper, dolphins surfing the bow wave or the bright blue of flotillas of Portuguese men'o'war floating past. After dinner, a lamp lighting his paints, he'd try to capture the stars in the firmament or the bright blaze the moonlight made on the inky sea. His became a familiar figure on deck staring earnestly at his subject and dabbing paint on the canvas.

For this leg of their voyage they had been compelled to take on board some passengers. "What on earth?" Marilla said when she saw the passenger list. "How do you pronounce that?" she said pointing. As it turned out Mr Deraniyagala told them just to call him Mr D when they were introduced, "for," he said. "I am so very tired of hearing my name mispronounced. Being amongst people who can say it properly is one of the things I am most longing for when I return home to Ceylon.

Mr Deraniyagala dressed very dapperly and spoke quickly with a sing song accent. He would spend fully five minutes each morning determining where to complete his toilette; wandering around the deck to find the most advantageous spot depending on the shifting position of the sun or the amount of cloud in the sky. The little boys following him in a sort of retinue. Hanging his kit from a hook he would remove the glass and inspect himself critically. He had brought a small cask of water on board with his luggage, not for drinking purposes he explained but for the management of his moustache of which he was inordinately proud. He poured some into a bowl every morning and washed his face assiduously, taking particular care of his facial hair. Then out would come the clippers. Not merely was his moustache neatly trimmed every day but he paid special attention to his nasal hair. He had a black mole on his neck from which sprouted one thick white hair of which he was also proud and to this he paid close attention. It, along with his moustache was macassared every day. Jacob and Johnny liked to sit crossed legged and watch him work. It rather amazed Marilla who rarely saw her boys so transfixed.

Apart from this burst of activity Mr D spent most of his day reading what he called the seminal Sinhalese classic, a text that looked more like ornate bird scratchings than writing as far as Marilla was concerned.

Their other passengers included Mr and Mrs Daniel Sprout from Johannesburg who were setting up a spice export business in Singapore; a young couple who had high hopes for their future. Additionally, there was Mr and Mrs Brownlow who were returning to Singapore after visiting Mrs Brownlow's parents in Cape Town. They were an older couple. Mrs Brownlow talked incessantly about their children now being educated in England and to everyone's discomfort she continually complained about their servants. Several other couples rounded out their passenger list which meant at night they sometimes had dance parties, particularly when the weather was mild and the sea not too rough.

Marilla enjoyed their company and sat out under the awning on deckchairs chatting with the ladies, while Mari kept the children occupied. Sometimes Isaiah might take some time out of the galley and spend it nearby sketching or painting. Mrs Brownlow looked askance the first time she saw him nearby causing Marilla to have a quiet word with her. The Captain had given Isaiah leave to practice his art where he chose.

At night they watched the gentlemen play at dominos, a game much enjoyed in the Orient or so they told Marilla. Quoits was also popular made more difficult on board the shifting deck than on dry land. Some nights they got up a dance, two or more members of the crew providing the music. There were more gentlemen than ladies, so the women often enjoyed more time on the dance floor than the men. Gilbert was sometimes dragooned into the affair which he complained bitterly about, preferring to be left to his own devices rather than dance with old women.

Now fifteen Gilbert was growing into a fine figure of a young man and he found the ladies interest in him confusing and unwelcome. He preferred the company of the crew who treated him as one of their own despite his relationship to the Captain. His mother had drawn him aside when they first joined the ship and advised him against pulling rank. "It won't do you any good you know," she'd counselled. "Not if you want to make any friends here. Father won't give you any favouritism and you must make sure to show him and the other crew the respect they're owed. They know far more about being a seaman than you ever will. I will be most disappointed if I hear of you taking advantage of your position."

Gilbert had taken her advice to heart. Naturally the crew knew he was a Blythe, but the only difference between them was that he was never in danger of being let go; the captain made sure he worked as hard as the rest of them. Sometimes he had dual roles, helping his mother out with the younger children and most of the old lags did not envy him that so it caused no rift between them.

The crew kidnapped him in Port Louis, Mauritius and he lost his virginity at the hands of an Indian temptress; a fact he never divulged to his parents. In a smoke hazed room draped with silks Gilbert backed away from a sari-clad woman, keeping his eyes firmly on her jewel encrusted belly button, until he came to a low-lying bed and fell awkwardly backwards upon it. The woman smiled at him sweetly, knelt down and unbuttoned his trousers. Naturally he spilt his seed too quickly, but the woman was understanding. She'd been given plenty of coin for her efforts and she soon brought him back with liberal use of her hands and mouth.

It was only when one came ashore that the sharpness of the Mauritian peaks became apparent, such a contrast to Table Mountain back in Cape Town. They resembled, Mari thought, the teeth of the lioness who had yawned at them that terrifying afternoon. Marilla took them out shopping in the markets one sultry afternoon and they marvelled at the exotic fruit and unimaginable vegetables for sale. Isaiah turned them all into intriguing new dishes with his usual skill.

Mr D grew more animated as they approached Ceylon and he started to tell them about its many and varied advantages. Turquoise seas fringed wide yellow beaches backed by lush green forests; the beauty of the women in their stunning saris. Of the wildlife; elephant, monkey, deer and most marvellous birds. He spoke with such eloquent wistfulness Marilla wished she could explore his home. One morning he came before her after his usual ablutions saying, "Mrs Blythe my sincere apologies that this did not occur to me sooner. Did I mention that I am going home to be married?" Marilla shook her head, strangely he had not. "Ah, silly me. Yes my mother has arranged my marriage and it will be held shortly after we make landfall."

"But we can't be sure exactly when that will be, Mr D," Marilla reasoned.

"No matter, Mrs Blythe. My mother will be able to sort it out. It would be my pleasure if you and the family and whomever else wishes to come would esteem my blessed nuptials with your presence."

"Oh," stammered a shocked Marilla. "I um, I'll see if we can spare the time. We weren't planning on spending long in Ceylon." At the sight of Mr D's crestfallen face, she added, "I will ask the Captain if we can make arrangements. I am honoured that you would invite us. Do you really mean all of us though? Will there be room?"

"Mrs Blythe," he assured her, "we will make room. We are expectingly many many guests."

"How many?" John asked later.

"About a thousand I believe," Marilla replied.

John rose on one elbow, "a thousand?"

"I know it's difficult," Marilla apologised. "But I couldn't refuse the poor man. He sounded so excited."

"He hardly knows us," John said in some confusion.

"Well I assume he knows us better than many attending. Let's go John, it might be interesting."

Interesting was an understatement.

It had never occurred to Marilla how different cultures managed weddings. Here it was a celebration from start to finish. Or at least she assumed so, they retired while the guests were dancing, showing no signs of slowing down. When they arrived she and John were parted, the boys were taken off to be dressed, apparently their own clothes were not deemed worthy. Marilla and Mari and even little Susanna were clothed in miles of silk. Bright pink in Marilla's case while Mari wore forest green and Susanna orange. It felt incredibly comfortable and suited the sultry weather perfectly, though walking was difficult in such a tight skirt. The silk deliciously luxurious against her skin. Mari and she kept glancing at each other in amazement. When they were reunited with the menfolk they found they were dressed in brocade encrusted suits with magnificent hats. The little boys strutted around proudly while John and Gilbert looked on slightly embarrassed. Mari was pleased she was not alone, she felt terribly white amongst the crowd, it was an unusual and not wholly comfortable sensation though she attracted only kind reactions.

The Blythes were feted wherever they went but shortly after they arrived the crowd's attention was diverted for up the road approached Mr D riding an elephant, its skin painted pink, trunk up looking very regal. Drummers accompanied him and the whole affair was very festive. Once Mr D dismounted masses of magnificently dressed drummers beat the bride and groom around the room. Not a church or in fact a holy area at all as far as Marilla could see. They craned to see through the crowd.

After a short but reverential ceremony the acrobats took over tumbling through the parted crowd and then dinner was served. The Blythes were embarrassed to be seated at a table close to the married couple. Johnny and Jacob were not seated for long before some well dressed little boys raced by. The lack of a shared language proved no deterrence and they chased after. No one paid any mind and the waiters elegantly sashayed around them as they served food. Marilla believed she had never tasted anything quite so delicious, she glanced across at Isaiah who had joined them, and mouthed 'take note' to which he nodded.

Between courses people danced and danced and danced. Marilla watched for a while until Mr D encouraged her to join in. He held his hand out to her and she took it willingly watched by an intrigued John. Marilla felt large and ungainly but the crowd were encouraging and her mistakes were smiled at. Gradually she felt into beat and let herself go. Step step, slide slide, step step, slide slide; they danced until the sweat poured down. Eventually laughing Marilla made her way off the dance floor and let John serve her a drink of water. "I can't recall the last time I had so much fun," she laughed feeling the weariness overwhelm her.

"Ready to go home?" asked John, Susanna asleep despite the noise, on his shoulder.

Marilla sighed happily, "I suppose so. Seems a shame doesn't it. It's all so marvellous, so exhilarating."

Later in their cabin, reams of silk folded in the corner Marilla could still hear the pounding of the drums in her ears. She fell asleep with the rainbow of colours in her minds eye. Just before they sailed Mr D sent an exotic bouquet of flowers to Marilla to thank her for everything. She received them with joy knowing she would never forget such a glamorous night.


	14. Chapter 14

Singapore appeared like a smudge on the edge of the horizon. It was preceded by several uninhabited islands and John and the First Mate pored over the maps to make sure they followed the right route. A steamer picked them up at the entrance of the harbour and they anchored in the middle surrounded by a multitude of ships, New Harbour now being one of the busiest ports in the world.

The first thing they noticed was the scent. The island smelt of something undefinable, not unpleasant but distinctive. When Marilla mentioned it to the Agent's wife, she said it was rotting plants. "It's the same everywhere in the tropics to some degree," she explained. "I disliked it initially, but I've got used to it now. I hardly smell it anymore, it's stronger in the wet season I must admit."

The city itself consisted of masses of low-slung buildings nestled around the harbour and beyond, though Singapore itself was not particularly large. Business and society was dominated by the mighty East India Trading Company which managed trade from India, China and all points east.

Having been shocked by the Ceylonese, Marilla and Mari now had to acclimatise to the myriad of faces they encountered. It was a real melting pot of Malay, Indians, Chinese and even the occasional European amongst others but they were rushed past the crowds as the shipping agent escorted them to the much-esteemed Ruffles Hotel* for afternoon tea. The streets were crammed with people selling goods but like Moses parting the Red Sea they melted away when the carriage came too close. Mari noticed that business resumed when they had passed. No one even taking note of them as if they never existed in the first place.

After they alighted Mari paused staring agape at the grand façade. This was no ordinary hotel, rather it resembled a small palace surrounded by luscious gardens of palm trees and colourful tropical plants. It being rather humid with rain clouds threatening they sat inside a grand dining room.

While she was admiring the garden, the boys were openly staring at the magnificent doorman. From his magnificent moustache to his brocaded shoes he exuded authority. Flustered Marilla examined the boys before they entered, whipping out her handkerchief and briefly dampening it with her mouth before wiping their faces as they squirmed. "Blow," she commanded. "You'll do, I suppose," she said afterwards.

With Mari taking Jacob's hand and Marilla with Susanna in one arm and Johnny's hand in the other they entered the wide doorway and walked into a gloomy entranceway. Instantly the stifling heat struck them. What small breeze blowing helped the humidity outdoors dissipated abruptly upon entering. It was like hitting an oppressive wall of heat and Mari felt her chemise cling to her torso with a clammy grip.

The dining room however was slightly more bearable. A large light airy room with wide windows had chandeliers hanging from the ceiling. Vast vases filled with lilies lent the room a pungently cloying perfume which almost overcame the smell of sweat, but not quite. A waiter weaved through the moderately busy room and escorted them to a large table. He pulled out chairs for them all to sit down. The polite murmur of the other guests and the soft clink of teacups and cutlery on plates provided the background noise while in the corner someone played a harp despite the humidity.

Having eaten their buns and drunk their milk the boys soon tired of sitting still and went exploring. A boy sat in a corner pulling ceaselessly on a rope attached to a fan. "Ask him if he wants to pway," Jacob whispered to Johnny.

"Do you want to play hide and seek?" Johnny asked, but the boy shook his head mournfully, his big brown eyes looking up at them.

"Get away from him," a passing gentleman hissed. "He can't play with you. He has a job to do see," he said, pointing up at the ceaselessly moving fans. "He's our punkah-wallah and a very important job it is too. If it weren't for him this room would be even more stifling than it is already. Keep working boy," he said sternly to the child mimicking the action. "In any case he's deaf," he said to the boys, "so he can't hear you. Pay him no mind and go back to your seats."

Confused but chastened the boys scurried back to their table and sat down. Johnny reached across the table for another cake nearly knocking the teapot over. Marilla gave him a sharp look as she steadied it. "Just sit still you two, this isn't a Ceylonese wedding you know, you have to behave yourselves. Jacob cast a low look at Johnny but was otherwise still as Marilla and Mari sipped their tea daintily looking around the room appreciatively. Mari made her excuses as she needed the ladies' room.

Johnny noticed something interesting on the far wall and nudged Jacob. While Marilla was preoccupied with Susanna, they slid off their chairs and stealthily made their way over. A massive tiger's head was mounted in a roaring pose upon the wall, its eyes staring forward dully. Johnny wished he were taller, he wanted to stroke the beautiful soft fur. "You have noticed our magnificent pet then I see young masters," a passing waiter stopped to tell them. "This is Shere Khan"* Setting his silver tray on the dresser because it was rather heavy, he told them the story.

"It was a very stormy night, rain lashed down and the wind made all the plants wave wildly. We had received word that a tiger had escaped from a local circus, so we were all on edge. Do you know about tigers, young masters? They are very ferocious, look." Both boys averted their gaze from his face to its long, sharp eye teeth. "One bite and you'd be dead as a doormat," he said with relish smacking his hands together. "Word had it that animal had been seen loping along the road out yonder," he gesticulated, "and that it had leapt our wall. The gentlemen located their shotguns, I can still hear the clicking as they shifted their safeties off. The problem was of course that it was a very dark night and our gardens are quite extensive, plenty of spots for a tiger to hide. See those stripes?" he asked and again the boys turned to look. "They are perfect camouflage; do you know what that means?" When they shook their heads, he continued, "it means the animal is expert at concealment. So began the most frightening game of hide and seek you could ever imagine. One snap of his jaws and the hunter would be toast; and yet we could not let the dangerous beast roam around the neighbourhood. It is a wonder no one was shot with all those nervous men wandering around the garden with their big guns cocked."

"As it happened no one did locate it, but a frightened servant found one of the hunters and told him in a low tone that the animal was inside. He had taken refuge underneath the billiard table in the smoking room. Only members may enter," he said in a weak joke that fell flat, "so we knew we had to dispatch it." The boys stood silent waiting for the end of the story.

Marilla looked up and noticed that the boys had disappeared and looked around in some dismay, but when she spied them listening to a waiter at the other side of the room she relaxed and offered the baby a morsel of cake instead. Truth be told it was nice to just be alone with Susanna, the boys were exhausting. She decided to make the most of the moment, but she kept half on eye on them just in case. Susanna waved a teaspoon around happily as she ate the cake smearily.

The waiter continued with his story, delighted to have such a rapt audience, "first of all we had to close all but one door so it could not escape. This brought its own problems because a cornered tiger is extremely dangerous. Shere Khan was hunkered down under the billiard table, just his long tail poking out waving like a cat's does. Nose to tail I would say it was longer than the table, a fearsome beast indeed. I peeked around the shoulder of one of the gentlemen and I could see its eyes glowing red in the gloom." This was a lie of course, the waiter had seen no such thing, but he saw no harm in a bit of embellishment for the sake of the story. "The gentlemen conferred between themselves. There was no need for more than one of them to shoot the animal. Ideally, they wanted the pelt to be in good condition. But just in case the first man missed or did not kill it outright he needed back up."

Mari entered the room from the far doorway and took Susanna from Marilla, "what are the boys up to?" she asked as she reached for a napkin to wipe the baby's face.

"I don't know, they seem to be listening to that waiter down there," said Marilla. "It must be a good story for they haven't moved an inch for the last ten minutes." Mari laughed the Blythe boys were not known for their inactivity.

"The principle shooter was chosen because he was an excellent shot, and he knelt down some way from the head of the table, with the others located at either side in case his shot went wide. And there we stayed for what felt like the longest moment," the waiter said. "My heart was pounding so loudly I was sure the gentlemen could hear me, but all that could really be heard was the sound of Shere Khan licking his paws with his big pink tongue. Rasp, rasp, rasp," he said rolling his R's. "I was standing at the side door and I could see the length of the beast with his tail was waving back and forth; he seemed very relaxed. Then Bang!" the waiter shouted, and the little boys jumped, their eyes wide open.

"I have never heard anything so loud," he said, pleased with their reaction, "as the report of that shotgun in close quarters. Fortunately for all concerned the gentleman aimed true and the animal was killed with one shot. You can just about see it there," he said pointing. "Right above the eye, it's hidden by the fur." The boys searched but could not see it. "Shere Khan gave a sigh and expired, its head sinking to its paws, but still magnificent in death. It took four men to drag it out from under the table and then outside. And here he stays to remind us of the bravery of the men that night."

"What did the circus say?" Johnny asked.

"Eh? The circus? Well they were just happy Shere Khan did not kill any members of the public. They let him escape after all, what could they say?" The waiter picked up his silver tray and bid them good afternoon as the boys thanked him for the story.

They ran back to their mother and the story tumbled out of them both as they both strove to get the good bits across. "Sh, one at a time. I can't understand you. Take a deep breath, um Jacob," said Marilla picking her younger child to Johnny's outrage, "and start at the beginning.

"Dats a tiga, Mama," he said pointing and then continued to tell the thrilling tale with his brother interrupting at salient points.

"Goodness," Marilla said when the story came to its startling conclusion. "What an amazing yarn. Do you want any more to eat before we go home?"

Any relief they hoped they might feel when they left the stuffy entranceway was not apparent as the city waited with baited breath for that afternoon's thunderstorm to alleviate the humidity. The doorman hailed a carriage for them but as he did so Marilla glanced down at Jacob. The boy was hopping up and down with his legs pressed together in a familiar dance. "Would you mind waiting a moment," said Marilla. "I think we have rather urgent business indoors."

She followed Mari back into the stuffy hallway and thence to the ladies' room. Between them they got the boys sorted and since they were there anyway changed Susanna's napkin. Marilla took advantage of the facilities herself, hitching up her light petticoats with relief.

* * * * *

"Marilla! Be reasonable."

Marilla cast him with her steely glare, her bright blue eyes flashing dangerously. Silently she got to her feet and made her way out of the cabin stepping decorously over the lip of the doorway.

John sighed heavily and rubbed his forehead. Of all the times to get stubborn she just had to choose now. He sat heavily on the bed for a moment.

When he reappeared on deck Marilla was nowhere to be seen. "Have you seen Mrs Blythe anywhere?" he asked a crewman.

"She's gone to town," the man replied. "She asked us to row her in. I hope we did right."

John nodded though internally his mind was awhirl. "That's fine. I had better go after her."

"Into that, Captain?" the man gestured at the city scape before them, she could be anywhere within the myriad of low-lying buildings.

"I have a fair idea where she might be," John replied.

Rowing over to the dock John thought about his plan of attack. She might be taking tea at Ruffles again but based on their conversation he was pretty sure he'd find her at the office of the shipping agent.

The issue was their cargo on this leg of the journey. Along with the regular assortment of general cargo: spices, linen, cast iron, leather, tea, clothing and other sundry items they had also been tasked with the delivery of some 500 barrels of rum. As a strict abolitionist Marilla had put her foot down.

"No, John. Let someone else take it if they must. I refuse to countenance it. I read somewhere that rum caused no end of trouble in the fledging colony some years ago. The last thing they need in Australia is more rum."

"This is a lucrative contract for us, darling. If we refuse, we might get a reputation. I can't afford that," John reasoned.

"You are always saying that," Marilla sighed. "Reputation be damned, are we not allowed to have morals now?"

John did locate Marilla remonstrating with the shipping agent, he was doing his best against a determined Marilla and looked at John in some dismay when he entered the office. "Ah Captain, call your wife off please."

"Marilla," John said. "Sit down."

"I prefer to stand," said Marilla indignantly.

"Your wife is telling me she refuses the cargo," explained the wearied agent. Wives seldom sailed with their husbands and he had never encountered one barring a shipment before. It was a new experience and one he was not particularly enjoying.

"Now Marilla," said John in a futile effort to be conciliatory. "You must see sense."

"No, you can send the rum with someone else, though I would prefer you do not," said Marilla firmly. "We are prepared to take other goods instead, but not hard liquor, I forbid it," she told the agent. "I will not travel on the ship with it," she turned to John. "If you insist, the children and I will stay here until you come and collect us."

"Darling," said John, knowing he had lost.

"I'd just tell your wife what's what," muttered the agent. "Are you honestly telling me she is your mistress? Who rules your household, Captain Blythe?"

With a look from one to the other, John ran his hands through his hair dishevelling it further. Marilla was determined and he knew better than to cross her when her blood was up. He shook his head slowly and looked at the agent, "what else can we take for you?" Marilla looked triumphant while the agent stared incredulously. "What would you have me do?" John asked the man. "Can you honestly say your wife never forces you to act?"

The agent shuffled papers busily rather than answering John and eventually said, "there's a consignment of jute bound for Sydney and another of saltpetre. Will that do?" Marilla nodded curtly and together they made their way out into the sunshine.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> * Ruffles Hotel is of course stolen from the infamous Raffles Hotel. Raffles did not open for another 20 years or so.
> 
> * Shere Khan was the tiger in Rudyard Kipling's _The Jungle Book._ Again, I have taken liberties with the dates as it had not yet been published, but who's to say Kipling didn't borrow the name from somewhere else? I have embellished the story, but it is based on fact.


	15. Chapter 15

A few days out from Singapore the Mate brought forth an unexpected passenger. He'd noticed that a barrel had moved out of alignment a couple of days earlier but had thought nothing of it at the time. It was in his mind when he woke that morning and he went to investigate. Really it was barely noticeable but being the tidy type, he'd seen that the barrel was a few inches out. Peering over the top he was surprised to find a young dark-haired boy had taken up residence. "Oi!" he cried and caught the offender by the jacket before he had time to scurry away. When he picked the child up, he realised his mistake; this was no child but a young man. "Where do you think you're going?" the Mate asked him. The man looked at him blankly. "Do you speak English?" the Mate asked next. He shrugged his shoulders. "Right, let's take you to the Captain."

Squirming and reluctant the man was pushed in front of John as the Mate said, "found him down with the barrels Captain. What shall we do with him?"

John looked the man up and down. He was slight, dark haired and rather darker of skin than most of his kin. Not so much yellow as tan John thought. Not that that made any difference. "What are you doing here?" John asked slowly. "You know where we are going?" The man nodded furiously. "I suppose you are hoping to find gold, is that it?"

"Gold," repeated the man.

"What's your name?" John asked.

The man looked at him blankly. "Me John," said John patting his chest. "And you?" he said patting the man's chest. "Zhang Wei," he replied.

"Eh?" John hadn't heard a name like that before, it sounded like a blur of consonants in the wrong order.

"Zhang Wei," the stranger repeated more slowly.

John looked across at the Mate who shrugged his shoulders.

"We'll just call you Little Pete, after the man who found you. How does that sound?" John turned to the Mate grinning. "You hungry?" he pointed at his mouth. Zhang Wei had caught nothing of the previous conversation but the miming he did understand. His meagre rations were just about to run out and he nodded. "Isaiah'll find him something to eat," John said to the Mate.

"Oh," said Isaiah when the Mate took Little Pete to the galley.

"Captain says you're to feed him," the Mate instructed.

Isaiah took down a bowl and sloshed a ladleful of that day's stew into it and handed it over. Zhang Wei looked at the bowl and picked up the spoon wonderingly. Tentatively he picked the implement up and put it into the bowl upside-down. "He'll be missing his chopsticks," Isaiah said to the Mate as he straightened the spoon in Little Pete's hands. Then he mimicked what the man should do next. The tender meat tasted odd, but he was hungry, so he ate it with the strange implement and smiled at the cook in appreciation after he had slurped up the broth.

As the youngest son from a large poor family Zhang Wei had been tasked with finding the family fortune in far off Australia. They all lived in a small room in Singapore where everyone worked at some trade or another. They had friends whose sons had gone there and had written back that although it was not easy, one could find a fortune there. He had lost his poor paying laundry job when the boss decided to employ a relative instead. He'd watched the rowboats go back and forth to the ships in the harbour one day and stowed away under a tarpaulin when a downpour caught him by surprise. He woke up when the boat had been brought up onto the ship before sailing and just hoped it was going to his destination, though he felt with a failing heart that it was unlikely. Hiding in the gloomy hold behind some barrels he eked out his rice wondering how he would survive, when the Mate tapped him on the shoulder.

Word had flashed around the ship like lightening when the Mate took the stowaway up to the Captain and soon the family knew as much as anyone, which was to say practically nothing. Rumour had it that he had set up camp in the hold and was roasting rats over a small fire.

* * *

Susanna was having a rough night. She was teething and inconsolable. Marilla had tried all the usual remedies including a rag dipped in spirits, to no effect and Susanna continued to scream the ship down. In desperation and to save the rest of the family Marilla had taken her out onto the deck in an attempt to distract her, "look," she said pointing up. "There are the stars, can you see them, and the reflection of the moon on the water, isn't it beautiful." She knew the baby was unlikely to understand a word but talked on in the thin hope that her voice would have a calming effect. After a while she felt a tap on her shoulder and turned around in surprise. Before her stood the Chinaman with his hands held out.

Marilla hesitated, what did this foreign man know about babies? But in all honesty, she was running out of ideas and more to the point energy; they had been up for hours. She handed the squalling infant over and watched in amazement when she stopped crying.

"Thank you," said Marilla gratefully, tears of exhaustion in her eyes. "Thank you."

"What's his secret?" John asked the next morning.

"No idea, she just clammed right up as soon as I placed her in his arms," said Marilla. "After the night I'd had I wasn't going to quibble. It was just a blessed relief to have her silent."

"Mm," John nodded. "And what happened next?"

"She was obviously exhausted, because shortly afterwards she fell asleep and he handed her back to me and I put her to bed. She's still sleeping. If I have to, I'll wake her."

"Very strange, maybe he's a professional child minder."

As it happened Zhang Wei knew little about babies. His mother had given birth to several after him and he had been forced to look after them on occasion which he did with ill grace because he had no choice. Still that night he, and probably everyone else on board had heard the Captain's baby wailing in distress and eventually he had made his way up from the hold to find the Captain's wife with her screeching child. He was as shocked as Marilla when the baby settled down.

"Sh, sh." Mari was unsuccessfully trying to soothe fractious Susanna one afternoon when he worked his charm again. Ordinarily Mari would not hand Susanna over to any member of the crew and certainly not to this foreigner, but Marilla had told her the story of their unusual interlude and Mari was running out of patience. It happened again, Susanna stopped crying and closed her eyes. "It was like magic, Aunt Marilla," Mari said her to later.

"Well I don't know about magic, but I'll take it regardless. She wears me down, I'm sure she does you too?" Mari nodded.

Zhang Wei often turned up when the women were at their wit's end and they gratefully handed her over and sighed when he did whatever he did. "I don't know about you, but I'm going to miss him when he leaves," Marilla told Mari. "He may be a stowaway, but he's decidedly useful."

The boys enjoyed Zhang Wei's company too. One day he showed them how to paint with water and they spent an enjoyable afternoon covering the deck with their fleeting images. He even got involved when Mari suggested they send a message in a bottle.

They asked Isaiah to find them an empty bottle and spent some time composing a suitable message. In the end Mari wrote a missive including the name of their ship, who they were and asked the finder to write to them care of Uncle Matthew on far away Prince Edward Island, deciding after some discussion that that was the best course of action. They asked Little Pete to write something but being illiterate he included a small painting of the ship instead. Rolling their papers into a scroll they placed it in the bottle and twice sealed the bottle with a cork and wax. The boys felt very grown up as they made their way aft to throw their little missive out into the world. Johnny kept looking at it bobbing behind them until it grew too small to see. Sometimes he wondered where it would turn up and what his uncle Matthew would make of it if someone replied.

Mari brought Susanna into Marilla's bed for her breakfast. It was one of Marilla's favourite times of the day. A content baby but apart from her, solitude. On this morning she received a visitor when little Jacob appeared in the doorway still dressed in his nightgown sucking his thumb. "What are you doing here darling?" she asked him. "Does Mari know where you are? Do you need anything?"

Jacob simply said, "huggle," and climbed into the bed. Her heart melted when she felt his small body press close. She tucked her arm around him and let him snuggle against her chest. Mari bustled in some moments later but stopped panicking when she saw him there. Marilla just smiled up at her and Mari left them to it.

* * *

The voyage to Melbourne was relatively trouble free; John had to intercede when two crewmen fought over some minor infraction, but otherwise it was easy sailing. A few weeks later they arrived at the Port Philip Bay Heads. Mindful of the wicked reefs on either side they watched with baited breath as the pilot skilfully guided them through the narrow strait.

Before them lay the vast expanse of Port Philip Bay, so large you could believe you were in the midst of a small sea. There were still a few hours of sailing before they spied the smoke from Melbourne's fires on the horizon and shortly after weighed anchor a few hundred yards offshore.

John rowed ashore and went to investigate. When he returned later he said, "some ships have been left bereft of crew. That's why we're not tying up. We'll stay anchored out here and take the boat in. I don't want to lose anyone. See that ship over there?" said John gesticulating. "I heard tell it lost half its crew, they absconded for the goldfields and now they don't have enough men to man the ship. The captain is lurking around all the usual haunts and he's had to pay exorbitant wages to lure them. But they say it's a slow business even so. He'll probably have to set sail with a shortened company. That won't be a pleasant experience."

Marilla shuddered, thinking how hard their crew worked, particularly in a storm. How could a ship survive with too few men to man it? "Have you explained that to the crew?" she asked.

"Yes, though there were some grumblings as you might imagine. Like Gilbert here they think there's some easy pot of gold at the end of the rainbow. One chap told me he provisions the miners, that sounds like a better way to make your fortune."

"Not as exciting though," Gilbert said.

"Never mind son," John ruffled his hair, "you have an exciting enough life as it is."

* * *

Seemingly effortlessly a large bird glided past the ship about a foot above the water. Marilla marvelled that anything so large could be so graceful. Just past the prow it put its feet up to brake and effortlessly dropped into the water with barely a splash and folded its large black and white wings next to its body. Then clattering its pendulous beak, it looked around and gracefully paddled away.

"'Tis a pelican, Mistress Blythe," explained one of the crew stopping by her momentarily. "Sometimes you see flocks fly over in a V formation. Wait 'til you see them on land, so ungainly." He glanced at its disappearing back briefly and put his foot upon the rigging. Absentmindedly Marilla watched him climb for a moment before casting her eyes out to the sight of the busy bay before them.

With fond farewells Zhang Wei, whose name they never did come to terms with, slipped out early one morning; he was the only person John permitted aboard the rowboat. Zhang Wei knew nothing of Melbourne, barring the fact that there was one civilised place for his countrymen; where he could get some proper food and hear his own tongue. Everyone had been polite to him on board, but he was lonely and then there was the fact that they stank.

Little Bourke Street was his destination and he found it soon enough. It was like coming home. He followed the delicious aroma of fried ginger and garlic and stood outside just breathing it in. Eventually a kindly woman took pity on him. She asked him where he was from and stuck a pair of chopsticks in one hand and a bowl of dumplings in the other. He ate surrounded by people chatting in a familiar tongue; for the first time in weeks Zhang Wei felt he could relax.

* * *

Marilla's hopes for Melbourne were unfulfilled. While she enjoyed the brand-new Royal Arcade, an elegantly laid out selection of shops and cafes, perfect for a leisurely promenade; the rest of the city seemed to be a muddy mess. Apparently broad streets had been laid out but were yet to materialise which meant the city consisted of just a few roads. She had been shown around by the Agent's wife who was only too happy to meet someone new. "Tell me all about your travels, Mrs Blythe," she said. "We get so little news here; tell me about your most exotic experience thus far."

"Well we did go on safari in Africa, but I preferred the Ceylonese wedding." The agent's wife's mouth made a perfect circle. "Yes," continued Marilla. "The groom arrived via elephant. We had escorted him from South Africa to Ceylon and he invited us to share in the celebrations."

"My goodness. And tell me did you bring anyone here?"

"Well no paying passengers, but we did have a Singaporean stowaway," explained Marilla.

"Celestials aren't very popular hereabouts," explained her partner. "I expect he'll have disappeared into Chinatown; a most noisome place. I make a point to avoid it." Marilla decided to investigate it at a later date, perhaps with John. "Was he very terrible?" the lady asked.

"He had an amazing knack with my young daughter. We put him to work cleaning the deck. He refused to go up in the rigging, but otherwise he worked hard. All in all, I have no complaints." Marilla hardly liked to say it to the woman who seemed set against all celestials as she dubbed them, but Marilla would miss Little Pete, he had been a useful addition to their community.

* * *

Marilla insisted that John take her to town for an outing before they departed. "We hardly ever spend any time alone together," she said. "And never on land. Come with me, do." He acquiesced and together they rowed over to the dock and hailed a buggy to take them to town. It was a fair trip and along the way they admired the scenery. Their driver pointed out the Yarra River which he said flowed upside down. Certainly, it was brown and muddy enough.

John admired the architecture. Melbourne seemed determined to be a big city one day. Its roads were wide and intermittently fine large buildings loomed above their smaller neighbours. Well-dressed people thronged about and there seemed to be plenty of money on show. "It'll be the gold," John explained. "Whether folk have found it themselves or not, it'll be driving a flourishing economy."

"Fashions are even further behind Cape Town," Marilla said as they sat over a cup of tea in a dainty tea house within the arcade. She felt almost out of place, despite her dress being more modern than those on display.

"I suppose it stands to reason doesn't it. We are further afield than ever, even if we have taken the long way around." There was a flurry outside, and their waitress told them to join the throng. "It's the clock, they put on a wonderful display," she said mysteriously.

Leaving their afternoon tea, Marilla and John walked out curiously. A lady saw them looking and explained that Gog and Magog would be striking the time any minute now. They're copied from similar statues in the Guildhall in London," she explained proudly. "We're all transfixed by them. I come every day around this time." As she spoke the action began and one statue's hand struck a bell three times. "Reminds me of the ship's bell," Marilla whispered to John.

"What now?" asked John after the display had finished and everyone dispersed.

"You'll think I'm foolish, but the Agent's wife mentioned Chinatown. She says that's where Little Pete will have gone. She was quite reproving, but I admit I'm fascinated."

"Look at you," John smiled. "You're eager for adventure wherever you can find it these days aren't you."

"I'm just interested in the world is all," said Marilla a little annoyed by his reaction.

"Don't be like that, I love it and I love you. You never shirk from new experiences and I think it's wonderful."

"Oh, well if that's what you mean, then I suppose I'll forgive you," Marilla tucked her arm in Johns' and they asked the way to Chinatown.

"You don't want to go up there," said the gentleman they asked. "It's a den of iniquity. No place for a lady," he added.

"If you'll just point us in the right direction," John urged.

It was as though some genie had taken up a handful of houses from the middle of one of the Singapore, and flung them down, inhabitants and all, in the Antipodes, Marilla thought as they strolled. Really there was no chance they'd find Little Pete, Marilla knew; but she had a piece of paper he'd scrawled his name upon, and she asked several people if they knew him.

By chance they managed to stumble upon the very same dumpling house he was now working in and he came out to welcome them when someone alerted him that two ghosts were looking for him. "Captain John, Mrs Blythe," he greeted them with about all the English he'd ever learned. The small establishment was nothing more than a room with rough hewn wooden tables and benches. Off to one side deep round pots bubbled. Zhang Wei called to the cook and they were presented with two steaming bowls of watery soup and a pair of chopsticks each. "Good good, eat eat," he urged eager to show off his cuisine. The flavour was unfamiliar but warm and spicy though the chopsticks proved impossible to manage. Marilla marvelled at the way Little Pete skilfully manipulated them.

Pursing her lips and knitting her brows she concentrated hard on picking up a dumpling only to be thwarted each time. Deciding that using her chopsticks with one hand was impossible Marilla tried putting one in each hand and manipulating them that way. She managed to pick one up, but her grip was poor, and it splashed back into the soup splashing her hand with hot broth. Zhang Wei looked across when she made an exclamation of dismay. Marilla was concentrating too hard to hear him but was happy when someone thrust one grimy spoon into her hand. "I think we'll have to share," John said as Marilla wiped it on her petticoat. Marilla dipped the spoon into the broth and was able to sip daintily. There was not much opportunity to talk to Little Pete even with the the language barrier as all around them people chattered and yelled in a cacophony of foreign voices. John and Marilla felt decidedly out of place but apart from Little Pete no one paid them any mind. Marilla smiled at him and felt happy when he grinned back.

When they had finished, Zhang Wei gestured to them, "come come. We go wash."

"Did he say wash?" John asked. "Wash?" he asked Little Pete but the man was a few yards ahead already.

An inconspicuous door led into a narrow building. Little Pete practically pushed Marilla through one door. She stood and stared. Several naked Asian women stared back through the steam. One approached her and handed her a towel and a small ceramic bowl. It was as hot and steamy as Singapore before a thunderstorm and Marilla decided that a bath did sound nice after all.

The women looked on curiously as she divested herself of her many layers and emerged, holding hands across her chest and crotch. Awkwardly she took up her bowl and slung her towel over her shoulder and wondered what she should do next. One woman pointed at the bowl and the water and mimicked washing. After a good scrub they told her to come to the bath where several other women were soaking. They appraised her frankly and after a pause she them. Their brown nipples, areole and thick jet-black hair were intriguing. Marilla wondered what they made of her pale skin. They were tiny and she felt like an ungainly giant, but the water was invigorating.

Her eyes slipped shut and she let the hot water do its work. Soon she could hear rather than see women giggling and when she lifted one eyelid, she could see the bathhouse was crammed with women young and old, staring frankly. She wished in that moment that the water would melt her away but deciding she couldn't get out of it now she opened both eyes and sat up a bit taller which made them all shriek and then as one they bowed low. Once the fuss had died down some more girls climbed into the water with her. Egged on by her friends one was brave enough to poke her with one tentative finger. When Marilla did not react, they all reached out to touch her hair, her skin, her breasts, but when someone approached between her legs she slammed them shut. It was like being nibbled by numerous fish. Marilla's arms were raised, and they giggled at her hair. Considering they live among whites, Marilla mused, they still find me fascinating.

On the ship later she told Mari about her experience. "I'd like to return," she said. "As strange as it was, I feel incredibly clean and after all, they were perfectly friendly. Would you like to accompany me?"

"You were naked?" Mari said tentatively.

"I was and after a moment I thought nothing of it. The men were elsewhere. John said they washed too, but no one was particularly interested. I suppose women are more social. Do come, you'll enjoy it."

Marilla felt far more relaxed this time since she knew what to expect. Their reception was muted at first, although Mari garnered some excitement. Mari felt acutely embarrassed at first. She hardly knew where to look, but since no one else giggled in due course she relaxed. "You feel so clean, don't you," said a buffed and pink Marilla. "I feel like I've never been so clean before."

* * *

There was speculation about their next cargo and whether they'd be asked to carry a consignment of gold back to England. Marilla was troubled.

"An what I'd do is, buy a big house and have lots of servants and never lift a finger. They could bring me stuff all day long and I'd eat the most delicious food from all around the world. I'd get them to bring me mangos and bananas and I'd buy an elephant and go hunting on my estate and I'd never eat salt pork again and I'd drink the finest wines and eat meat every day and I'd … " Gilbert was so caught up in his reverie that he didn't notice his mother enter the cabin, her face interested at first then turned to thunder as she heard what he was doing. She interrupted him mid-sentence, "…What you'd do is nothing, young man because we won't be taking it."

"Aw Ma!"

"Don't you 'aw Ma' me, Gilbert what you are suggesting is immoral. This is precisely why we won't be taking it. It's too much of a temptation."

"Wouldn't matter anyway," said John as he walked in. "Turns out they only let naval ships carry the stuff. We'll be shipping the wool clip, plenty of wool to go around." He laughed when he saw Gilbert's crestfallen face. "Don't worry son. If we'd taken the gold, you'd scarcely see an ounce of it, and we'd have to take soldiers to guard it. The authorities take it very seriously."

"Well maybe I'll skip ship and find out for myself," Gilbert suggested mischievously.

"Oh no, you won't," said Marilla firmly, adding, "it's a terrible scourge, so I hear. Very few miners make their fortune. Folks I met said there are very many poor men working like slaves in terrible conditions. It's freezing cold in winter and boiling hot in summer and the gold is elusive."

"But some people have struck it rich, Ma," Gilbert replied, unwilling to give up his dreams.

"Some, but not many," his mother said reprovingly. "I think most are disappointed. This is a most unprepossessing country, so dry and lifeless. I found it decidedly anti-social when I went to town. The streets are dusty and the population uncouth for the most part."

"Must be the convict taint," said John.

"Mm, I suppose so. What else could you expect from a penal colony," Marilla said musing.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> A/N Before you go off at me, I'm Australian. I'm just echoing what people thought at the time.
> 
> * Gog and Magog are real. I love seeing them too. Unlike Anne's versions they are giants not small dogs.


	16. Chapter 16

Khol lined eyes stared back at Marilla through the burka when her glance lingered a touch too long. It was the sort of behaviour she continually upbraided the boys for, but there was something so mysterious about these hidden women.

Back in Melbourne they had received orders to sail back to London but were excited to hear that the long-awaited Suez Canal had finally opened, and they would be sailing that way instead of back around Africa or more laboriously across the Pacific. "It's fantastic, Mar," John had explained. "Modern engineering has solved a colossal problem. Think of the weeks sailing that will be saved."

"I expect the French will impose a weighty imposition upon our passage," Marilla mused thoughtfully.

"No matter, the company is prepared to pay. This will bring their cargo to them that much faster, so they've deemed it worthwhile. I'm pretty excited, Mar. It is one of the engineering marvels of the century. Look at the map here." John pointed out their route, across the Indian Ocean to the coast of Africa and then up the Gulf of Aden and then into the Red Sea. "We'll be stopping in Tunis," John explained. "After we traverse the Canal."

As it turned out the passage through the canal was tedium itself. First there was the queuing, masses of ships had decided to take the opportunity to save time. Then they were assigned a tug and towed along the unnaturally straight strait. John realised soon enough that what he most enjoyed about being a sea captain was the countless decisions he made each day regarding sail craft and without these, life was dull. The passage only took a day, but it was not one anyone longed to repeat. Even the excitement of seeing land on soon waned when it became apparent there was nothing but a flat expanse of desert on either side. "Never mind, darling," Marilla said. "Just think we'll get through this and be up to London in record time."

"Yes, yes I know. It is marvellous," replied John. "Just not very exciting." The crew were bored too, while it sounded wonderful to have the day off, time lagged when there were no diversions. They tried calling out to the ships fore and aft but no one spoke English. Thankfully after sixteen hours or so they were let loose from the tug and the Port Said obelisks disappeared into their wake. John thrilled to see the wind catch their sails and they were off.

* * *

Neat piles of ground cardamom, chilli, turmeric, cinnamon and saffron spiced the air. Camels added their own aroma their saddle bells jingling and tassels swaying in time with their stride. Mari watched as they folded themselves into large heaps in a display somehow both graceful and awkward. Heat beat down relentlessly and she felt a little faint under her scarf, wondering how anyone could exist in such oppressive conditions.

Spices in shades of red Mari never knew existed caught her attention and she smiled at the recollection of Jacob's indignation when he found out that the Red Sea was just regular blue. Gilbert had played a trick on the boys earlier in the voyage saying the sea was called red because the water was. She'd diverted Jacob by sitting with him and devising all the tricks they could play on Gilbert in return.

Sensing her attention had strayed a gaggle of urchins descended, their grubby little hands plucking at her clothes seeking out unknown orifices for coins, calling "me, me, me." Mari staggered a little then sank to the ground under their combined weight.

Haggling over a bolt of material a couple of stalls away Marilla was surprised when the man she was dealing with shot a sharp glance over her shoulder; until then he had been engrossed in their exchange. He was keen to get the deal done before the afternoon prayers, expecting the muezzin would be sending out the call any time now. Turning she was intrigued to hear the dull murmurs of the crowd rise in pitch as they bent over something. Well it was nothing to do with her though she looked around for Mari, wondering where the girl had gotten to.

An old crone grabbed Marilla's hand with her own lined one adjusting her scarf as she did so and pulled her over to the crowd which parted reluctantly as she approached. "Mari," Marilla knelt down by the girl as she lay on the dusty ground. "Are you hurt?" Mari had her eyes tightly closed and her hands protectively over her face. "Mari, it's me, it's Marilla. Come now they've gone away." Marilla looked over her shoulder and waved them off; the onlookers backed away imperceptibly, inching closer the moment her back was turned.

Just as the first call to prayer sounded over the bazaar salvation arrived with the local matriarch who turned up with one or two helpers. Without a word the crowd dispersed to let her through, her authority absolute. Two women picked Mari up, one holding her shoulders the other her legs and together they made their way to a nearby door. Marilla tried to intervene, warnings of Barbary slavers coursing through her mind, but the Matriarch simply took her hand and led her through the street.

Isaiah and Gilbert saw the masses surround Mari but were unable to get close, they watched in dismay as Marilla and Mari were taken through an ornate door and looked at each other as it banged shut. "Let's get help," said Isaiah when Gilbert's attempts to open the door failed. "Your father will know what to do."

All sounds of the street beyond vanished in an instant and Marilla paused to look at the courtyard before them. A long pool of water lay surrounded by turquoise tiles in an intricate pattern repeated over and over, on both walls cool water dripped down carved fountains. It was a blessedly cool and relaxing space after the tumult of the bazaar. Still she had no time to linger, she had to look after Mari.

They had laid the stricken girl down on a nearby bed and set about divesting her of her outer clothes. Fearing the worst Marilla intervened but with low murmurs they pushed her back. Another pressed her down onto a low couch and removed her scarf. She looked on amazed as they too removed their drab all-encompassing outer wear to reveal sumptuous and colourful attire. From a hidden door a servant arrived bearing a silver tray with cool drinks, summoned by what means Marilla could not ascertain. The servant offered her a goblet and she took it fervently praying they would be safe; she was still unsure whether these people were saviours or sinners.

Pausing, she waited until her host had drunk then she gestured that Marilla should do likewise. Mollified Marilla took a sip and was amazed at the most delicious flavour that danced upon her tongue. Having felt somewhat overwhelmed by the situation herself, she felt immediately better and drank some more somewhat past caring what else may come, feeling that nothing bad could come from such a delicious elixir. A curious languor descended, when Marilla felt her eyes grow heavier she lay back across the cushions as sleep overcame her.

The Madame watched dispassionately as first one then the other goblet slipped from long white unconscious fingers and splashed their contents to the tiled floor with a tinny clunk. A long smear of sticky liquid formed when her prizes were dragged away. She sat thinking as she watched the door slam behind them; her clients were strange, what they saw in these ugly pale women she had no idea. Still so long as they paid what did it matter? The older woman wasn't worth much, though she might make a passable kitchen slave, but the girl would be worth a fortune.

* * *

Anne woke especially early and lay in her bed unable to get back to sleep. Deciding she'd rather face Rachel's wrath later in the day silently she got dressed and tip-toed outside. She had been too busy the night before to pay a visit to Green Gables and she hated to disappoint Matthew and Goliath.

Her dreams had been dashed upon arrival in Avonlea, but Anne had carved out a life for herself that more or less approximated happiness. Sometimes she reflected back on her decision; it was true to say that her impetuousness had got her into this mess. Perhaps if she had given Mrs Blythe a bit of notice something better might have been arranged, but Anne had never been one to think things through, rather she took opportunities where they arose.

In any case so long as she was able to visit Green Gables and give Goliath a hug each day, she was mostly content. The little monkey never hesitated to greet her with a loud hoot rushing from Matthew to her so as to inspect her pockets for treats. Peanuts were a favourite, but he rarely received those; he was also partial to an apple which he gnawed on with his tiny sharp white teeth. Sweetcorn was another delight, he would hold a cob in his hands and run his teeth along the rows gnawing them off neatly. She remembered watching him unpeeling a banana, fastidiously removing the stringy bits before he stuffed his cheeks with the sweat fruit. Sadly, there were no bananas to be had on PEI but Anne loved to tell Matthew all about it, puffing up her own cheeks when she shared the story. Matthew told her how much Goliath adored preserves and sometimes Anne brought up an old jam jar. The sight of his tiny pink tongue stretching out as far as it could to capture the last smear never failed to amuse her, as did his look of profound annoyance when something was out of reach no matter how far he poked his finger in. If she were feeling a little sad about life, his antics never failed to improve her mood.

Anne had made a few friends at school. Diana Barry lived nearby, while quiet she proved to be a stalwart friend though she never really came to terms with the monkey. The other girls found Anne to be a rather eccentric classmate, but they tolerated her easily enough. Though they thought she had to be exaggerating when she regaled them with tales of her exploits on the high seas.

She had longed for school believing she would adore acquainting herself with all the knowledge that could be found but reality was less exciting. Anne really required an energetic teacher to nurture her love of words, but the Avonlea teacher was due to retire and only stayed on because he needed the money. Anne Shirley only reminded him how old he was, and he rather resented the fact that she was full of questions. He had hoped to slide into retirement without being pushed and this annoyance was not helping. He did his best to deflect her incessant questions as she probed him during his insipid lessons.

* * *

The first thing Marilla noticed when she roused was that the couch was uncomfortable, it was this that alerted her to the fact that she had been moved. Mari lay on a bench across the room and with a shock she realised the girl was naked. Glancing down Marilla noticed she was as well. What had been done to them? The drug still coursed through her system as she found herself stumbling onto the cold tiles. She crawled across, realising halfway as the floor yawed beneath her that the distance was beyond her abilities at present.

* * *

"What is it boy? What's up Isaiah? Where are they?" John's voice grew increasingly strident as they struggled to answer with little breath. He staggered when they told him what had happened.

The agent shrugged, "if they were foolish enough to go out unchaperoned..." he trailed off threateningly. The police were no use either. The last thing the chief wanted to do was get embroiled in a turf war with the brothel madams. He knew where his next meal was coming from, it was not worth his while getting involved; Europeans went missing all the time. John yelled at him to do something but the man refused to budge. Exiting the building someone thrust a grubby slip of paper with a name scrawled upon it into John's hands. The agent knew who it was and said, "you might be in luck. It'll cost you though."

* * *

Marilla joined John on deck hoping the fresh air would blow the last vestiges of the drug from her head, "so how much am I worth? she asked conversationally.

"Ten camels," replied John as he wrapped his arms around her, the memory of the two women huddled on a filthy bed in a windowless cell flashed before his eyes.

"Camels?"

"Yes, that's how women are priced," John frowned. "But you weren't the problem," he added meaningfully. "It was Mari."

Marilla looked back at him in shock and with no warning vomited down his shirt front.


	17. Chapter 17

After their unsavoury interlude in North Africa, they were pleased to sail away as soon as possible. The ship smelt like a spice bazaar bringing unhappy memories for Marilla and Mari. John told Marilla how they'd rescued them a few nights later when the horror was less fresh. He'd already chatted with Mari when they brought both women aboard. She'd thanked him graciously and he'd said, "of course, can you imagine how I would have fared if I told Rachel I'd lost you in some Barbary bordello? She'd have had my guts for garters. I had no choice." Mari gave him a wan smile as he tucked her into her bed. "You get some rest, you'll need it after your terrible ordeal, but you're safe now. I won't let anything happen."

Mari might have been happy to remain mostly ignorant of what went on behind the scenes, but Marilla pressed him to tell her more. "Are you sure you want to know?" he asked.

"Yes, tell me everything," she urged while she watched him button up his waistcoat as Susanna drank her breakfast.

"Well," he said casting his mind back to that seedy smoke-filled room where a collection of unsavoury men lounged in a drugged state, and a grimy hookah bubbled in the corner though his inquisitor's eyes looked at him sharply enough. "Mr Abdul directed me to a certain building probably not far from where you disappeared. A tall man dressed in one of those long gowns they wore, do you remember, watched as we entered."

"We?" queried Marilla.

"I took Isaiah and the Mate along with me for back up," John explained, Marilla nodded. "Anyway, he made us stand and make our case before him. I told him I'd get the British authorities involved if I had to."

"Do you think that helped?" Susanna disengaged with a dribble of pearly milk escaping the corner of her mouth and Marilla swapped her to the other side as John answered.

"I'm not sure, it was possibly an empty threat; no one in command seemed all that interested. I got the distinct impression that it happens all the time. Perhaps I just made you both seem like more trouble than you were worth." Marilla made a sound next to him and he added, "that's the best outcome surely. You surely didn't want to stay there did you?"

"No indeed, I did not," Marilla shuddered.

"Come now, I have to get on. Will you be all right my darling?"

"Yes, I have to get the boys sorted. I'll give Mari a couple of days to recover, she's had a nasty shock."

"Do you think she understands?" John asked, his voice lowering as he did up his tie.

"What might have happened to her? I think she has a fair idea, though we haven't gone into too much detail."

"What will you say if she asks?"

Marilla sighed, "I don't know. A girl her age shouldn't know such things, but she came perilously close to finding out in the worst way possible. I feel she has a right to know the bare bones of it. Yet I don't I want to frighten her any more than I have to."

"I'd let her take the lead. If she asks you can answer, otherwise leave it. One day when she's old enough she may be better equipped to deal with that knowledge." He bent down to kiss Marilla on her forehead and Susanna on the back of her head and walked out into the sunshine.

* * *

Matthew never thought he'd forget the day he decided to repaint the small lambing shed. It wasn't used for much but sometimes he had something he wanted to store outside of the barn. It might be particularly smelly or flammable and it was useful to keep that sort of thing away from the stock and the hay. Sometimes, it even lived up to its name and was used to keep a ewe and her lamb warm. It was looking pretty battered and he'd decided a fresh whitewash was in order. He had not factored help in his musings, but an open bucket of whitewash had proven irresistible to the little monkey. Soon white handprints decorated the entire east wall and the surrounding ground was likewise festooned. The dark brown monkey turned quite white until Anne was able to bathe him. Matthew wasn't much concerned the as the stuff was cheap and the wall faced away from the house but afterwards the sight of a small white handprint never failed to bring a smile to his face.

* * *

Really, Anne thought later when she lay tucked up in her bed with a smuggled monkey curled up under her chin, it was probably the squirrel's fault.

Goliath and the Green Gables' squirrel population enjoyed an antagonistic relationship.

Ever since Goliath disturbed a squirrel family when he clambered up the oak tree one spring afternoon. It had been a regular Saturday afternoon Anne had finished her chores and was given leave to visit as she often did. Emboldened by the warmer weather and the fact that his humans spent more time outside Goliath had gone for a bit of an explore. During winter it had been easy enough to keep tracks on him as he clambered around the bare trees but now the leaves were sprouting and they often lost him in the high branches, only a tell-tale rustling or sudden thrashing of a branch informed them where he was or more to the point had been.

Goliath had been just a baby when he was plucked from his mother's arms and since then had been kept by people which meant that he had little experience with wild animals and it was because of this, Anne surmised, that he took such a fright when he first encountered a squirrel. Surely, he would never have been so petrified of something a quarter of his size, but the first time he saw a small brown animal peering into his eyes he hooted loudly and ran back to Anne, shooting up her leg quite unexpectedly.

Still he was intrigued enough by the mammal to go back to investigate the next day. Matthew and Anne watched him tentatively approach the tree, pause and then disappear into its branches. "Seems to be having fun," remarked Matthew blandly as he dipped his cookie into his tea. That was an understatement Anne thought as the tree seemed to be undergoing a tremendous thrashing as though a massive storm were approaching it and it alone. Goliath poked his head through the branches at times then disappeared again. It seemed to them as they watched that the action roamed all over. At one point the squirrel chased Goliath out into the open and he disappeared up another tree and the chase continued. Matthew reported that the monkey slept very soundly that night.

Matthew had never held a party before and might never have come to the idea if Anne hadn't mentioned it. Anne had a quiet enough life as it was and when she shyly suggested to Matthew that she would like to host a get together one day, he wondered if he could make it happen somehow. He read in the paper a few weeks later that plans were underfoot for a Dominion Day firework display at the White Sands Hotel and decided that perhaps they might have a little fun at Green Gables for once. Looking back Matthew could hardly remember if they had ever had a big party even when he was young; his folks weren't very social, but Matthew felt emboldened with Anne by his side. Together they had driven to town and bought the supplies including a good selection of fireworks. "You're not to go near them," Matthew had warned. "They can be dangerous in the wrong hands."

Naturally Anne had done most of the planning and had invited all her classmates and even some of their parents. The Lyndes were invited also and Rachel and Mrs Barry were helping with the catering. All Anne really had to do was decorate the house and the garden. She and Diana decided to use red, white and blue bunting in honour of the Canadian flag.

Goliath was getting underfoot as they placed delicious cakes and pies and sandwiches on the tables. Having shooed him away for the umpteenth time, Anne decided enough was enough and she plucked him off the table saying out loud as if he could understand, "that's enough from you young man, you can stay up in the gabled room until the guests arrive." She popped him onto the bed and kissed him on the head, so he knew he was still loved. Then she walked out quickly closing the door firmly behind her, relieved that he was out of the way for a while. She might have been less relaxed if she had witnessed a small brown shape exiting the open window, jumping into the pear tree outside the window and climbing down its branches with an easy motion.

Guests started arriving shortly afterwards and Anne was busy, fetching drinks, directing them to the food tables and socialising. She remarked to Diana, "there are so many responsibilities on a person's mind when they're keeping house, isn't there?" and in all the hubbub she quite forgot about Goliath languishing as she thought in the uppermost bedroom. Matthew had meant to pull the fireworks out of the shed already but he had got caught up with his guests and figured it could wait for a few minutes, it was still light after all and he knew they were safe enough, so he didn't worry too much.

Goliath had gone exploring. He swung up into the old oak tree hoping to find some old acorns or something interesting. It was just joyous to swing around up there, the branches were spaced just the right distance apart. Distantly he could hear the hubbub of the crowd but he ignored them. He had just landed on a nice solid branch and was walking along its length with all four feet, his tail counterbalanced behind him when he was interrupted in his play by a territorial squirrel. It had found a mate and they had set a up home in this most desirable of locales. The last thing he needed was an intruder so he popped up in Goliath's face and squealed.

Shocked Goliath, who really could have pummelled the small creature, leapt away and down the tree with the animal chasing him. Even when he reached the ground he was still so startled that he ran for the nearest shelter he could find, the old lambing shed. There he found the relief he had been seeking for the squirrel was satisfied when the monkey disappeared, and turned and ran back up to his mate.

An old jam jar stuffed with bolts fell as Goliath brushed past and lay in pieces on the floor, one large shard rolled slightly and fetched up at an angle to the sunlight that streamed in through the door.

Goliath was intrigued by the thin tall things that stood at angles in the corner, they had an unusual smell and he sniffed them curiously. The old bucket of whitewash stood in the far corner with the lid loosely placed on top. Goliath remembered that smell from his painting days and dipped a finger in and painted the wall in one long stroke.

On the front lawn the party was getting into full swing. Most of the guests had arrived by now. Around a corner some of the boys surreptitiously swigged their moonshine trying not to cough at the harsh burn and give the game away. Rachel was trying to get Anne's attention as she needed a catering decision, but Anne was talking to Diana about how lovely it all was and telling Jane Andrews that they had a surprise planned for later than evening when

BANG!

BANG! BANG! BANG!

Anne looked up to see a small projectile run full bore from the shed straight into her stomach. Winded Anne instinctively put her arms out to catch Goliath who positively shook next to her chest.

"What the Devil?" Rachel said as she and everyone else turned towards the sound. The reports continued and as they peered around the corner of the house, they could see the small lambing shed's roof and walls rattle with each resounding thud.

"The fireworks!" Matthew cried as he raced over only to be repelled by the smoke and ongoing explosions, colourful sparks shooting in all directions and the deafening sound hurting his ears.

"Not much you can do now," said Thomas Lynde as he joined him. Then together they were nearly knocked off their feet as a particularly large explosion ripped the shed apart, the roof landing some yards away and all four walls splitting apart. The smell of cordite strong and the smoke wafting over the garden.

Goliath was consoled with a piece of cake. The children were amused by the way he sat up in his red trousers with the cake held firmly in his hands eating just like a little person, only his waving tail the obvious giveaway. Afterwards he boldly strolled up and down the tables, leaving sticky footprints in his wake, but no one had the heart to shoo him away after his terrible shock.

Surprisingly it was Matthew who recovered first. "Come now Anne, no need to cry," he comforted her. "It's just an old shed, no harm done, and no one's hurt. Let's not let it ruin the party. I bet," he added conspiratorially, "this is one party that no one will ever be able to forget." And indeed no one ever did. Not only was it one of the happiest parties anyone had ever been to, the firework display became an in joke with anyone living in Avonlea only having to say, 'Bang' and them all to fall about with laughter. It became such a legend that in later years the numbers of attendees had to have grown, for half their area of the island claimed to have been there.

Anne looked up at him gratefully, took a big breath and turned to Diana. "Oh Anne," Di breathed. "How positively awful."

"No," replied Anne resolutely with barely a quiver in her voice. "No, it's fine. I refused to let it dampen the mood. Fireworks are over folks," she added in a loud voice. "Our display just happened a bit sooner than expected." She bowed theatrically and stood before them enjoying their warm laughter at her antics. Matthew beamed so proud of the way his girl handled herself. He promised to let Marilla know about it next time he saw her.


	18. Chapter 18

_Prince Charming will surely love these; one bite and he will instantly be smitten then profess his undying love for me._

Cognisant of the way her daydreams sometimes caused problems Anne decided to imagine that she was baking her tarts for a handsome prince. Surely even lowly cooks can catch a prince's eye sometimes, she reasoned. With that in mind she mixed, rested, rolled and pressed her buttery pastry into the tart tins; reminding herself that she'd never win his heart if she burnt them.

The pastry took barely five minutes to bake in the hot oven and she pulled them out and poured the jam she'd made earlier into the cases careful not to spill a drop. They already looked delicious, but they needed a further stint in the oven before they would be ready. The smell of hot tangy jam alerted Anne that her tarts were ready. While the rain beat down outside, she walked over to the oven and bent over to pull them out, taking care to hold the piping hot tray just so with a dishtowel. She planned to take them to Diana's to celebrate her birthday. They were perfect, the pastry just golden and the raspberry filling bubbling. "They look lovely, Anne," Rachel peered over her shoulder, "I doubt I could have done a better job."

Anne beamed, proud of her efforts, "I wanted to make something special for Diana, she is such a good friend."

"Well I think she will be very happy, Anne. It's a lovely gift," Rachel said approvingly.

When the tarts had cooled sufficiently Anne packed them safely in her basket ready to take to the Barry's. The last thing she wanted was one of the smaller Lynde's taking one for themselves, they all had a sweet tooth and one or other of the boys wasn't completely trustworthy around such delicious treats as raspberry tarts. Not, Anne mused, that she completely blamed them.

As it turned out her day did not go according to plan. Afterwards Anne sobbed in Rachel's arms. "It was a bit of a Jonah day by the sounds of it," Rachel said rubbing Anne's back comfortingly.

It had all started out innocently enough. There was just enough time to visit Matthew and Goliath before Diana's party. Anne never really felt as though the day was complete without a bit of monkey in it, Goliath was such a dear little fellow. It made her sad that he was not allowed to live with her at Lynde Hollow, but Rachel was adamant, "this house is chaotic enough as it is with all these children, the very last thing I need is a monkey underfoot." Matthew soothed Anne whenever she mentioned it, "now, now, she does have a point. He's safe with me and we get on well. I'd be awful lonesome without him."

On this occasion Anne placed her basket down on a barn bench and went to help Matthew groom the horses. "Don't get your dress all mucky now, Anne," Matthew cautioned. "Best you sit over there while I work." Anne watched Matthew as he brushed the horse with long firm strokes creating a halo of dust around himself and the animal.

Whilst Anne was busy telling Matthew about an incident at school the previous day and how much she was looking forward to Diana's afternoon tea, Goliath slipped off her knee and went to investigate.

Even cool the raspberry tarts smelt delicious and he stealthily made his way over to the bench and lifted up the cloth. He bent down low to sniff and poked his little pink tongue out for a tentative taste. Next thing he had snatched up the treat and stuffed it in his mouth. Goliath was not always a neat eater, golden crumbs cascaded down his chest. Not that counting was his forte, but Goliath was happy that there was such an abundance. He ate until he was full. When he backed away the cloth dropped back down covering the basket once more. The monkey's stomach was full now and he loped away to a private corner for a much-deserved nap.

"Hadn't you better get away now, Anne," Matthew said, pulling his watch out of his pocket. "Don't want to be late now."

"Oh, is that the time?" Anne cried. "I'll be off." Grabbing her basket, she dashed away not noticing in her rush that the basket was considerably lighter.

Anne's high voice roused Goliath and as he stirred, he found that his chest was bestrewn with pastry crumbs. He spent a few happy minutes meticulously picking them off, happy to find an extra snack. When he could find no more, he went back down to find Matthew; sometimes he sat on the horse while it was being groomed, Matthew's voice was very comforting.

Diana's parlour was well appointed on this day and looked very festive. In the back of Anne's mind, she was just a teensy bit jealous of the fuss Diana's parents made of her, but she was determined not to let it ruin the party. Today was about her bosom friend, not her. After a few parlour games they sat around the table handing their gifts to Diana. Many girls had bought her gifts from Carmody. Anne who had no money to spend hoped that Diana would still appreciate her gift. In any case she knew the tarts would be delicious, they had looked so beautiful nestled in their basket.

"Thank you, Anne," Diana said graciously. She knew Anne had no money but hoped something nice might be within. Lifting off the cloth she peered inside and found - nothing. She looked at Anne quizzically. "Um? It's a lovely basket."

"Basket?" Anne was horrified. She snatched the receptacle back from Diana and looked inside at the now empty nest. With a cry she flung it down and rushed out of the room utterly humiliated. "Anne!" Diana jumped up and ran after her, but Anne was too quick and was out the door and down the road before Diana left the room. She turned back slowly and faced the rest of her guests, "I wonder what happened to poor Anne?" she said sadly.

Initially Anne headed to Green Gables but as she ran her mind swirled realising that the culprit had to have been Goliath. Heart racing and lungs burning she really did not think she had it in her to greet the monkey warmly. Instead she changed direction and ran home straight into Rachel's arms. Rachel soothed her, "it was truly a Jonah day, that's all that can be said about it. Tomorrow will be better I am sure."

"It couldn't possibly be worse," Anne sobbed in Rachel's arms, more than ever before she wished she had a mother. "It was humiliating, I can't face those girls. I'm never going back to school again!"

"Really," Rachel remarked to Thomas later, "she does have bad luck, though Lord knows she's awful dramatic about it."

* * *

Johnny and Jacob stood peering up, up, up into the heavens at the tiny figure atop the column silhouetted against the clouds. "Who's he?" asked Johnny pointing. "He must be someone important to get to stand way up there."

"Looks cold Mama," said Jacob hugging Marilla's leg.

"That's Nelson, hero of the battle of Trafalgar," Marilla explained. "He fought and died there, and they raised this column to his memory because he was so clever and brave. And look at the lions aren't they beautiful?"

"I prefer them like this," said Mari softly, "to the ones we saw in Africa. Much safer yet still noble."

Marilla smiled at her, "those African lions were quite frightening weren't they." Gilbert gave Johnny a shove and he scrambled up on to the statue's back and waved his arms. "I wanna go, I wanna go," cried Jacob and John lifted him up too so that he sat in front of his brother. The adults stood smiling up at them. Marilla pulled her shawl tighter and shifted her feet. It was chilly even on a summer's day.

Later they wandered around admiring the architecture of all the fine buildings but sensing the children were growing restless, John consulted a map and they turned through an impressive arch and walked down a long straight road, past some gardens stopping to feed some ducks in a lake. "This is St James's Park," John explained. They bought the boys a small bag of bird seed and watched as the fowl ducked and raced for the food. Johnny paid his out gradually, but Jacob upended his portion in one go and then grew upset when Johnny had some left. Sighing Marilla asked if Johnny would mind giving some to his younger brother which he did with ill grace. Honestly Marilla didn't blame him, and she whispered in his ear that she'd make it up soon.

Buckingham Palace loomed all white against a green backdrop, tall and stately and grand. The boys ran up to the guard with their impressive headgear standing to attention outside the wide iron gates. "I believe they're not allowed to react," John explained. That did it and the boys cavorted around striving to get his attention. Marilla admonished Jacob when he stuck his tongue out at the stone-faced soldier, but the man moved not a muscle instead staring impassively forward. They both jumped when without warning the soldier adjusted his gun in an exaggerated gesture and stamped his feet. It was all very regal and awe inspiring. "Can I be a soldya when I gwow up Mummy?" Jacob asked. Marilla's heart clenched at the thought of her boy joining up, but she said impassively, "if that's what you want darling," praying it would never come to pass.

John consulted the map again and they made their way south to the river and boarded a boat to take them down to the Tower. There were many sights to be seen along the way and the wide river was full of watercraft of all shapes and sizes. One particularly stately one caught their eye and they spent some time pointing out its colourful flags and speculating who was aboard.

"I know," said Marilla when they alighted from the boat as a nearby church clock chimed three. "How about you take them home," she said nodding at the tired boys yawning, "and I'll take Mari shopping."

"Are you sure?" John asked. "Will you be safe?"

"Darling, this is London, we're a long way from the Barbary Coast. No need to be worried about white slavers here, I think," she said with a smile. "You take a boat downstream and we'll catch a hansom cab to Regent Street, I believe the shopping is delightful. Mari and I deserve something fashionable don't you agree?" she asked the girl.

Somewhat dazed at this turn of events, Mari could only nod.

"First I should feed Susanna, then she can go down when you get home." Marilla asked around and found a ladies' waiting room where she fed the baby while the rest of them waited outside. John bought the boys an iced bun to rally their flagging energy then with a kiss they parted company.

After a cab ride the ladies disembarked at the magnificently curved store lined Regent Street. "What shall we do first?" Marilla asked. "How about we have a good look before we decide upon anything?" Arm in arm they promenaded down the busy street feeling a bit out of place at first, but when no one took much notice they relaxed. Mari stopped to stare at the fashion more often than Marilla, but together they slowly made their way along the pavement.

"I'm afraid I might have overspent," Marilla confessed to John over dinner that night.

"Oh?"

"Yes, well we encountered an extremely arrogant saleswoman and she got my back up," Marilla explained.

"Do tell," John settled back in his chair, intrigued. Marilla never could stand to be slighted.

"You have a good eye for fashion Mari, I will admit," Marilla started looking at the girl, Mari smiled back at her. "You know John I lean towards clothes of a practical nature, but as you said Mari, when are you ever going to get another chance to buy a fashionable dress in London? We entered one establishment which had some lovely cloth. After the measuring we discussed styles. I was rather at sea." John grinned at the pun and Marilla winked at him. "All was going well, though I was mindful of costs and trying to limit your flights of fancy, Mari. Then it happened."

"Mm?" said John between mouthfuls.

"Well the manager had been out but she returned and rather took over the process. She looked down her nose at us both and I think our accents, sneering whenever we consulted about details. Out of the corner of my eye I could see her smirking at her staff."*

"Oh dear," John murmured wishing he'd been there to witness what was bound to come next.

"Well I thrust the material back into the woman's face. I mean the cheek of her and we marched right out of there, didn't we Mari!"

Mari grinned and nodded, "you should have seen her John. It was rather beautiful."

"I bet," John said. "No one treats my wife like that. But I hope you did buy something."

"Oh yes we certainly did. I wanted to ensure that Mari received something beautiful."

"So did your tactic work?" Gilbert asked, puzzled. "If you still bought something?"

"You don't think we gave that place any of our money, do you? We made sure to find a friendlier establishment and spent our money there instead. I hope you are happy with our choices, Mari," Marilla said turning to the girl.

"Oh yes," Mari sighed. "I think I preferred the second place anyway. Initially I admit I was a bit crestfallen when you stormed out of that first place. I did like their suggestions and I thought the dress would be lovely, but it all turned out fine in the end."

"Show us," clamoured the boys.

"Well they have to make it now," Marilla explained. "They'll deliver it in a week, then Mari will be happy to model it for you darlings."

While they were waiting for the dress, Marilla took the family out to explore the city seeing the Victoria and Albert Museum, marvelling over the antiquities including the Elgin Marbles at the British Museum, Big Ben, The Cathedral Church at St Paul, Westminster Abbey. The Tower of London was a favourite and the boys thrilled to hear the tale of the small princes in the Bloody Tower, shivering when Gilbert teased them. They spent a lovely afternoon wandering around the National Gallery, where Gilbert and Mari made up games to keep the small boys interested."How many haystacks can you see?" Mari might ask. Marilla was pleased with the way she kept them involved having been slightly trepidatious about bringing them.

All in all, it was a lovely week full of interesting things to see and do and at the end of it the dresses were delivered. Mari had almost forgotten how beautiful hers was and stroked the fine material reverently when she took it out of its box. Marilla had also bought some dresses of a more practical nature as was her nature, but Mari's was simply beautiful. "Ooh" the boys said when she modelled it for them. Gilbert just stood and started at her as if for the first time while John looked on appreciatively. "Very nice," said Marilla fingering the beading. "Lovely stitching. Are you happy with it?"

"Aunt Marilla!" Mari whispered. "It's simply stunning."

"Good I am pleased. I wonder what your mother will make of it when we eventually see her.

* * *

"Right we're off," John exclaimed as they weighed anchor and the ship slipped down the river towards the sea.

"Where to now?" Marilla asked.

"Virginia and then Montreal," John replied. "If you want to go home, Mari, we can probably arrange it."

The boys had a new game. Tired of watching the crew and their big brother climb the rigging they had started daring each other to climb the ropes. At five Jacob was still relatively safe but Johnny was a different matter. His parents had forbidden him to so much as lay one finger on the rigging, but the lad was at an irrepressible age when he still thought he was invincible. "Cwimb higher Johnny," little Jacob's voice could be heard over the billowing sails. "Cwimb higher."

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> * This happened to me in London. Liberty is a beautiful store, but the staff are utter snobs.


	19. Chapter 19

"No, Johnny, I forbid it. Come down," Mari commanded trying to grab him, but ever the daredevil Johnny took one defiant look down at her and took another step up. "Johnny!" He looked away from her concentrating now as he had never climbed so high before.

Mari was in a quandary. She needed help she knew but she dared not take her eyes off the boy as he climbed higher still. Marilla had taken the baby downstairs to nurse and the crew were busy in the rigging. A storm was rising and the 'all hands' order had rung out shortly before which meant that no one was paying the boy any mind. "Johnny," Mari implored. "Please come down."

Overconfidence was Johnny's undoing, a rogue wave caught him off-balance as he skylarked, and his grip slipped. Though he tried to get it back he faltered, wavered, looked safe for a moment then dropped. Mari would never forget the sight of the small boy falling to the waves, eyes wide open in shock and his distinctive blue coat rising up against his back for the merest moment until he dropped from sight below the side of the ship.

Charles Hayford was aloft. Out of the corner of his eye he saw movement and the resultant small splash. Without hesitation he let go of his spar and dived down to save whomever had fallen, unaware at first who it was. It was only when he had pulled the body up that he realised. Just the merest slip of humanity, but oh so important. He was just able to pull the boy out of the water and hold his head up. Johnny was unconscious, head lolling against Hayford's neck. Hayford got his bearings and looked up to see the ship sailing off already several hundred yards away and getting smaller by the second. "Fuck," he swore loudly. "You fucking idiot."

Below decks Susanna was just finishing her lunch, her sleepy head nodding towards Marilla's chest. She would suck one or twice, nod off momentarily and suck again. She was teething and it had been a hard night so both she and her mother were exhausted. Marilla was half tempted to lie down next to the baby; but a sudden shout shook her. Laying the child in her basket, Marilla covered herself up quickly as she made her way topside.

Her blood ran cold when they told her the news. Her boy, her boy had gone. She sank to her knees unable to process the information. "I'm so sorry, Aunt Marilla," Mari said. "I tried to stop him, but…" Marilla barely heard her at first but then her voice penetrated, and she gripped the girl's forearm tightly. "What happened? how could you let this occur? You fool of a girl."

"Aunt Marilla, I'm so sorry, I tried, I tried to get him to come down, but he ignored me. I can't climb - these skirts," Mari shook them angrily, tears springing to her eyes in frustration and sorrow.

Around them all was movement as John directed the crew to tack to port and lower a lifeboat. Time was of the essence. Not only was he worried for his boy and the crewman in the drink, but the storm was brewing. Rising wind whipping slack ropes and sails into a frenzy.

Gilbert left the crew at a quick murmur from his father, "we've got this, see to your mother." Gilbert knelt down by her side. She collapsed into his arms and together they prayed and watched the men at their work taking no notice of the way the wind blew their hair about.

A rowboat was lowered with four men in it including John. Together they rowed away from the ship, the rising seas making their job difficult. Gilbert and Mari helped Marilla to her feet and holding Jacob's hand tightly she and they hung onto the side of the ship watching the small boat rowing steadily through the rising sea, disappearing at times but valiantly cresting the next wave.

Hayford was beginning to lose heart. He'd trodden water for as long as he could muster in the freezing cold sea, but he had all but given up hope. A strange lassitude overcame him, and he longed to let go, but somehow something kept him thrashing in the water trying to keep them both from sinking. Still it was just a matter of moments; just as he felt he had to relinquish his fight he found himself being lifted up out of the sea and hauled into the rowboat still grasping the boy, unwilling to give up his grip. "Got to save…" he muttered before he lost consciousness.

Everyone was on hand to bring man and boy back on deck. Honestly it looked as though the rescuers had reached them too late, but much to everyone's surprise Hayford coughed and spluttered. The Mate turned his head to one side to let the water drain out and he was carried down below to be put to bed.

No such miracle occurred for Johnny and they all feared for his life, but a crewmember knelt by his side and put a mirror to his blue lips and from this it was ascertained that he breathed yet. This brought forth a new flurry of movement as he too was carried away, his mother following.

John was in a quandary, he had to ready the ship against the storm, but his boy needed him. "I've got this sir," the Mate clapped his hand on John's shoulder. John hesitated, swaying back and forth in his distress. "John!" The use of his first name brought John to his senses and with one brief grateful glance at the Mate he rushed down to the cabin. Once the family had disappeared the Mate shifted his attention and yelled out new orders to get the sails furled and the hatches battened.

They laid Johnny onto the bed. Marilla and Mari worked effectively together stripping and washing him in warm water and then dressing him in his nightgown. Marilla tucked him up into the bed and lay down next to him while the others hovered nearby. Only the gentle rise and fall of the blankets informed them that he still lived.

Marilla spent a restless night. The tumult of the storm outside unheeded for once as she and John prayed to the Lord that Johnny might be spared. John took Mari aside and told her that it wasn't her fault, "it was an accident, no more. Please don't be upset. Gilbert says she might have said some things she didn't mean while she was distressed. Just know it wasn't your fault, there was nothing you could have done beyond what you did. You alerted us, that's all you could have done," he comforted the grief-stricken girl as she sobbed on his shoulder. "I'm going to have to get you to care for the younger children until…" Mari nodded, she understood the gravity of the situation.

Feeling dreadful she took Jacob and the baby with her. "Is he gonna be all right?" Jacob pulled against her arm desperate to get back to his brother."

"I pray he will be," Mari answered.

"But will he? He's gotta be. Tell me Mari, tell me!" Jacob's voice rose in pitch.

"Hush now, let's leave your mother to tend to him, he's very sick. Let's go and see if Isaiah has something for us and we'll have a picnic in the cabin." Mari was desperate to divert Jacob, food usually helped.

* * *

Marilla looked up when Hayford appeared in the doorway blocking the light. "I jus I just wanted to see how he was doin, Missus?" he said shyly. Marilla scrambled to her feet and embraced her son's saviour tightly. "He's still asleep," she said, "but we have you to thank for that Mr Hayford. If it weren't for your bravery, he'd …" she stopped there unable to continue and backed away. "Anyway, I just wanted to thank you from the bottom of my heart, we all owe you a debt of gratitude, Hayford.

A few days later Marilla's fervent prayers to her merciful God were answered and Johnny stirred at last. John came rushing in, his feet squeaking as he rounded the corner nearly falling over in his haste. He knelt down on the floor next to the bed and took Johnny's small hand in his own and kissed it gently. "How are you son?" he said raggedly, it had been a long week. Johnny was silent. "He hasn't spoken yet," Marilla said, "but he's awake that's the main thing isn't it darling, you've awoken."

Some days later Johnny had recovered some of his strength, spending longer and longer each day awake but they still had yet to hear his sweet voice. John took Marilla's arm and led her away from the bedside to murmur, "do you think he's quite right?"

"What are you saying John?"

"It's just you hear things, that people who suffer his sort of injury have problems later. It happens, I'm just saying be prepared," he said to her look of consternation. "He may have a long road ahead of him, that's all I'm saying."

"No, I refuse to believe it. We just have to wait, he's getting better every day, there's nothing wrong with him. I won't have you writing him off already."

"Marilla," John said possibly more sharply than he meant to, "I'm not writing him off. But look he hasn't spoken yet. Don't tell me you're not worried? When we get to Virginia, I want to take him to a doctor, which of course we should do in any case."

"I don't think that's necessary is it?" replied Marilla. Deep down she was worried that if a doctor said what she was thinking it might make it come true. Keeping those fears silent kept Johnny safe. Somehow the last thing she needed was John's voice of reason, however much it made sense.

* * *

After a restless night Johnny vomited his breakfast over his blankets. It was too much, Marilla sank to her knees sobbing. Mari who had just ducked out found her there and went to fetch John.

A couple of commands later and Marilla found herself being carried bodily up onto deck beside the wheel. Setting her down on a bench John said, "you've been down there by his side for days, come and get some fresh air. Mari will keep a close eye on him, and I've told Gilbert to mind the other two." Marilla made as if to get up, but John pressed her back down. "Captain's orders," he said gently but firmly. "You need a break. Just enjoy yourself for a while, feel the sun and the wind."

John could see a brief internal struggle play across her face but to his relief she capitulated. He understood her actions, of course he did, but he had to look after her too. With a quick click of his fingers and glance the cabin boy trotted down to the galley reappearing shortly after with a mug of coffee which he gave to the captain silently and which John offered to Marilla after touching her lightly on the shoulder.

She sipped her coffee in the sunshine trying not to fret. It had been so long she had nearly forgotten how it felt to be outside. Tears came to her eyes in guilt. It was the sort of day that Johnny had always loved. He had such a sense of curiosity and he should have been wearying her with endless questions not laying in his bed. "I know," murmured John. "I know. Sit easy for a while." Marilla sighed and let herself drift off, lulled by the ship's movement. Catching up with ship matters John forgot about her for a while but was pleased later to see her head on her shoulders as a stray lock of hair blew around her head unheeded.

The weather was mild, and he was able to let her sleep next to him for the next few hours. At one point he stuck his head below to check that Mari was coping. She had enlisted the help of a crewman to help her with Johnny's bedding which he congratulated her upon, and Johnny was now resting peacefully looking angelic in his bed. Like Marilla John was worried for his son, but right now there was little else that they could do.


	20. Chapter 20

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Warning: There's some talk of depression in this chapter.

"Maa..aa..ma." Johnny's voice was rough and croaky after so long being quiet, but it sounded like ambrosia to his mother.

"Johnny?" she jumped at hearing his voice again. "Did you speak darling?"

"Mmm." Marilla fetched him a glass of water to loosen his throat and he tried again, "Mama," but he was unable to say anything more due to being pressed to her chest in a tight hug.

He did not remember his dip or his subsequent rescue but once he was up and about, they made sure he thanked his saviour.

Marilla had held herself together for the most part while she had tended to him. Johnny's pressing needs keeping her focussed on his recovery. It was the after affect that was the issue.

Hayford was tarring the deck having gone back to work as soon as he recovered. Marilla came upon him as she went for a walk, "I did thank you didn't I, Hayford?"

"Yes'm."

Defying social mores Marilla leant into his chest feeling his heart beating through his blue serge. Hayford stood there awkwardly until she straightened herself and wiped her eyes. "My apologies, I'm just a bit emotional is all. I can never thank you enough. You acted so courageously, why you might have drowned yourself."

"T'was no trouble at all, ma'am. To be honest, I didn't really think, I just saw his little body drop and I dove off. How is the little fella? I hope he's recovering?"

"He is, thanks to you. He still struggles a little, but it is only because of you that I can make that claim. I…" but Marilla ran out of words again, overwhelmed with emotion. The Mate had seen the whole interaction from a distance, and he came up when he saw Marilla faltering and gently led her to the Captain.

"All is well Mar. God and Hayford intervened and our boy's safe," said John soothingly.

"I know, but I keep imagining how badly it could have played out. I keep dreaming that he died. His little blue body..."

John held her tight, "you're struggling, I know. I wish we could have some time to recover but…" he gazed out at the expanse of ocean around them.

Each day Marilla declined just that little further. Each day getting up was harder. Each day the steps seemed higher. Each day talking to the children was harder. Each day taking an interest in the world was harder. Marilla felt as though life were a steep cliff looming over her, the thought of the ascent to the summit dragged her down. Getting dressed, fumbling over hooks and buttons was beyond her some days and Mari had to help her to maintain some semblance of proprietary. Even Johnny whom she had wailed for those weeks ago she found exhausting. All she really wanted to do was sleep; if they had let her, she would sleep all day. Yet at night it eluded her. Her tossing and turning drove John out earlier than he had to. Honestly, he said to himself, he was getting little enough respite in bed with her constant movement, he may as well be up on deck.

It was as if her life was a circle of thin glass around which she wrapped her mind. On one side were memories of her mistakes: the time she hurt Matthew with cutting words at seven; deserted her mother at sixteen and left Matthew to cope alone; running away from Rachel without a word; snapped at the children or John. The image of that marketplace in Tunis; the taste of the delicious elixir; the thought of Mari's potential fate haunted her waking dreams. Johnny's accident, how quickly it might have all been over. All these dark thoughts and more traced around and around the circle's perimeter faster and faster and faster. If she let her concentration lapse, she'd descend into the abyss of melancholia. One false move, one false comment and she'd sink without trace into the inky depths never to return.

Safety lay on the other side of the disc and she ran her mind around and around hoping it would keep her just this side of sane, but it took effort like a tightrope. She could barely function she had to concentrate so hard. She took to wandering around the deck like a ghostly spectre, hair streaming raggedly down her back, uncommunicative unless she saw Hayford then she clasped to him tightly. Hayford took to escaping up the rigging if he saw her approaching, he found her ragged hair and haggard face and the desperate way she clutched at him disturbing.

At the sound of John's footfall she feigns sleep. He will only force her to get dressed, run a brush through her unkempt hair and make her meet the mocking sun. Marilla can't face any of it. She lies motionless in her bed forcing her breathing to stay slow and steady so he can't tell if that she's awake. Gilbert joins his father and she can hear their low voices. "I'm worried about her Dad."

"I am too, son," John replied. "I wouldn't say this to her directly, but she reminds me of her mother."

"Oh?" Marilla can hear the question in Gilbert's voice and strains to hear. She is nothing like her mother, what can John be implying?

"Yes, she sank in the same way. When your mother's beloved brother Michael died in an accident; your grandmother was never the same. One of the reasons Mother left Avonlea was to get away from that depressive environment." The voices fade as the men left the cabin.

John's words chilled her to the bone. He was comparing her to her mother. Surely, they were different; Mother was unresponsive, melancholic but she… but she … With a jolt it hit her like a blow. She had felt sorry for her mother certainly, but she had never understood quite what she faced. At the time Marilla thought it was down to a lack of fortitude, now she saw as she never had before quite what a dilemma her mother had endured and how she must have struggled. And Marilla had not even lost Johnny, he was still alive, how much more terrible must it have been for her mama; the hot wet tears she wept for her were as fervent and heart felt as the ones she had once shed for her brother. She prayed for forgiveness.

A passing sailor heard her cries and hastened to find the mate who passed the information to the captain. Making his excuses John made his way down to her cabin and found Marilla stricken, hot tears streaking down her cheeks and violent weeping shaking the whole bed. Wordlessly he took her into his arms and hugged her tight. He may not have known exactly what had upset her in the moment, but she was suffering. It was his role, as her husband, to care for her. The shuddering sobs diminished in number and intensity and soon he felt her body relax and her breathing slow; she was asleep. Brushing a stray lock of hair off her forehead he settled her back down upon her pillows and covered her with the blanket. Without a word he left her and strode back out into the light to resume his duties.

When she woke, Marilla determined not to waste away as her mother had done, but it was hard. She meant to get up, but her head swum upon her first attempt and she slumped back exhausted from the emotion. Tomorrow, she vowed. Tomorrow I'll make more of an effort.

It was no easier the next morning, but Marilla forced herself to get out of bed, feeling every step as though it were a mountain to be scaled. She prayed that it would get easier. She longed to talk to someone other than John, to seek counsel from a minister or Rachel or someone with experience of loss.

Blinking her eyes against the harsh light Marilla stood in the doorway for some minutes willing herself to continue. From the poop John who had the overview of the entire ship watched her sway in the doorway. Please move, please don't return to bed, he prayed, determined to let her go at her own pace. He watched relieved as she slowly made her way down the deck, clutching at various ropes and stays as she regained her sea legs.

Marilla fetched up in the galley. Isaiah acknowledged her with a nod as he chopped the vegetables for that night's dinner. He had heard that she was under the weather after the accident, dinners he had prepared for her had been returned untouched for days. Now seeing her gaunt, dark eyes rimmed red from crying Isaiah thought he would approach her like a little bird who had washed up on the deck. She had weathered, was weathering a storm and had to be treated accordingly. As a result, Isaiah was quiet the only sound in the room his knife slicing through the turnips. When the kettle boiled, he made a pot of coffee and poured a cup for them both. Silently he pushed one over to Marilla. He watched sympathetically as she did not acknowledge it initially but when he sipped, she took up her own cup though she forgot to drink it. Poor woman he thought, she's struggling just to go through the motions. She left a few minutes later when his back was turned.

Just the matter of sitting with another soul; though he had not said a word exhausted Marilla, but she felt it was a start. She'd return tomorrow but for now she had to sleep. The next day she returned and even managed a quick sip of the scalding hot coffee. The following day there was cake just out of the oven and the aroma was quite enticing though she did not eat.

This went on for some days and they still had not talked until one afternoon Isaiah said apropos of nothing, "I lost someone once." Marilla looked up at him and stared, she had never enquired as to Isaiah's past much to her current embarrassment. "Yeah," he said to her enquiring look. "My wife and daughter."

"W – wife? I didn't, I mean I never …"

"I know my youthful complexion tricks people," he said with a rueful smile. Sighing heavily, he set his knife down on the bench. "She was so beautiful."

"Tell me about her," said Marilla, stirrings of an interest in the world emerging for the first time in a long while. "What was her name?"

"She was called Lilly. I used to call her my Lilly of the Valley."

"Was she? Was she um …"

"She was the daughter of slaves, just like me. We met at the market and got to chatting when we got a chance, stealing odd moments here and there. I never met anyone like her before, so kind, so clever. She had a laugh like a small bell sweet and high. She made you feel good just by being you know?" Marilla nodded. "An she listened intently to all the nonsense I spouted too, as if I were the most fascinating man she'd ever met. What she saw in me I'll never know, Mrs Blythe." Marilla frowned. "No, what am I? Big Isaiah? I'm nothing special. Do you know even though her family was free we still had to ask her Master, her employer if we could wed," he said angrily. "Our wedding day was the most wonderful day of my life. I felt full to bursting."

"What happened?" Marilla whispered, hardly daring to break his bubble. She had never seen Isaiah's face light up like this. "She and our baby died in childbirth," he said flatly, all the light going out of his face.

"Oh Isaiah," Marilla said, her eyes full of tears. "How did you go on?"

"I just did. I mean I wanted to die too, but I couldn't do it. I was too cowardly to follow them; it was sinful to feel that way. I willed myself to die sometimes but my traitorous heart kept beating. I had to eat, and for that I had to work. Home held too many memories, so I signed onto this ship and slowly I've gotten over the worst of the pain, but it's never wholly gone away, does that make sense?"

"It does. I feel terrible that I never knew Isaiah, my apologies."

"I don't like to share my story with just anyone Mistress Blythe, it's too personal. I keep Lilly and the baby tucked in here," he said patting his heart.

"Did the baby have a name?" Marilla asked.

"We discussed names before as you do, you know. If it were a boy, he would have been Matthew, after the saint and a girl was going to be Catherine because that was Lilly's favourite name. She was Catherine," he said with love.

"It's a beautiful name. May I pray for your Catherine and Lilly, Isaiah? It would be such an honour if you would say yes."

"You don't have to," he said, his eyes awash with brimming tears, he pulled a dishcloth up and blew his nose.

"It's not a matter of have, I would like to. You know my brother is a Matthew," Marilla said. "And a lovelier man never walked the earth. So kind and gentle he is. Your Matthew had the baby been a boy would have been wonderful too, I'm sure. With your guidance."

Isaiah suddenly had to tend to something on the stove. Marilla sat looking at his wide shuddering back and decided to give the man some space. Silently she put her cup down and made her way out on to the deck. She still felt utterly exhausted, but Isaiah's story had given her something else to think about. She had believed for a while that her situation was the worst in the world and he reminded her of how very lucky she was. She had all her babes around her still, apart from little Rachel; and John. Really, she had nothing to complain about yet there was Isaiah who just did his work every day without a murmur despite his poor broken heart.

She had prayed for someone to talk to, never expecting it to be a member of the crew. She felt desperately sorry for the man, no one should have to face that in their life, but it did give them an affinity. Some people, she reflected, might believe that a white woman and a black man would have little in common, but that was not the case. She found a ready ear in Isaiah. He was a good listener and removed enough to offer her wise counsel. What guilt she initially felt at her pain at only nearly losing her child was soon put to one side. If Isaiah believed she was making a mountain out of a molehill he thankfully kept that to himself.

At first their conversations were just about the children, but they soon stretched to life itself. She loved to hear his tales of growing up on an island, it was interesting to compare and contrast it to her upbringing. The insular nature of island life regardless of latitude amused them both. Isaiah found himself telling Marilla small anecdotes of his life with Lilly. How they courted, what their marriage was like. She had been a delight; the only drawback was that their time together had been so short. "We were so happy to find out about the baby, Mistress Blythe," he'd said one afternoon.

By this time their conversations had moved out onto the deck. John saw them sitting in the sunshine and smiled, he was just happy Marilla was moving on. If Isaiah could help her over-come her melancholia, he was content.

"I'm sure you were," replied Marilla, thinking back to their own delight.

"It felt as though our little home would be perfect. Us two and a baby, what could go wrong? Our house was modest, some might say ramshackle, but we loved it and a baby would make us complete," he glanced across at Marilla who nodded back. "She grew larger you know. She got to the point where I thought she could not possible grow more without her belly popping open," he laughed fondly at the memory. "Little did I know she had more growing in her. I think one of the problems was," he added sombrely, "that I am so large, whereas she was just a wee slip of a thing. I could not fetch a doctor to help. They refused to help us out. A neighbour had caught babies before and I summoned her, but the situation was beyond her. Lilly could not force that baby out, Marilla," the name snuck out unbidden, but Marilla was silent. How could she make a fuss when the man was in such a state?

"Her cries rent the house and the neighbourhood. I know people could hear her distress; they must have wondered what I was doing to her. What I was doing was trying to save them, but it was beyond us. She died there in our bed with the baby," he looked across at Marilla with such anguish in his eyes. "Afterwards I cradled her cooling body in my lap. They tried to separate us because they wanted to wash her, to make her fit for burial. How could I let them? How could I put my love in the ground, Marilla? How? She who was always so full of life. How could I let them put that sweet little laugh in the cold dark ground?" His pain was palpable leaving Marilla feeling powerless.


	21. Chapter 21

It all started innocently enough. Matthew had to run some errands in Carmody and offered to give Anne and the Lynde children a lift to school as the road was muddy after the previous day's hard rain. Anne sat up the front with Matthew while the Lynde children crowded in the back all higgledy-piggledy, and they were chatting and singing joyfully, happy that they were out of the much. In the hubbub no one noticed the little monkey that stowed away in the bottom of the cart.

Mid-morning Anne felt the familiar cramps which heralded her time of the month and she put her hand up to go to the privy which for obvious reasons was some way from the schoolhouse. Which meant that Anne who had a bit of a job there did not hear the shrieks of laughter and screams of dismay which emanated from the classroom.

Mr Mustard wrote the lesson on the blackboard, his long white fingers clasping the chalk. As he did so nineteen pairs of eyes watched breathlessly as a red suited simian climbed down the window and across Dan Andrew's desk. Some of the girls had been introduced to Goliath but most of the class had not and as a result had no idea from whence the small creature had sprung.

The lesson was long, so Mr Mustard instructed the class to read from their books while he laboriously wrote out the notes. The only sound in the room was the staccato taps of chalk scraping across the board. Mr Mustard paid them no attention, but in the back of his mind he did think he had finally got their attention. Usually when his back was turned there were some murmurings, but on this morning, they were silently reading or so he assumed.

Just as Goliath was finishing his work Mr Mustard was too. Wiping the chalk dust off his fingers he turned around saying, "now students I wa…" but he was struck dumb by the sight before him. The children were not paying him any attention and were instead intently staring at the ceiling whereupon a small creature was graffitiing school property. Mr Mustard was dumbfounded momentarily, such a thing had never been known in his school, but one thing was sure he was not happy about it. "Whose creature is this?" he asked in a booming voice.

"I say," Mr Mustard raised his voice when there was no answer, "whose animal is that?"

Anne walked back in at that very moment expecting to find the classroom just as she had left it and shocked to find it in uproar. Recognising her, Goliath jumped from the roof into her arms so that even if she had wanted to there was no denying his ownership.

"Anne Shirley, is this that yours?" Mr Mustard roared.

Juggling Goliath who was trying to find a hiding spot under her dress she stammered, "er yes sir."

"Take it away, at once," he said firmly.

"Aww," a collective sigh rose up from the class and he looked at them thunderously. A calmer teacher might have used it as a teaching moment, but Mr Mustard was too incensed. Anne turned but as she did the monkey made a leap for the ceiling once more and the class watched as he walked across the rafters towards the front of the room. He leapt easily down onto the teacher's desk and crouched down with his tail waving behind him grinning at Mr Mustard who said, "shoo." Goliath chattered up at him but did not move. "Shoo," more forcibly this time.

Anne thought she had better take control of the situation but as she strode towards the desk the monkey decided to make a leap for it unfortunately landing on top of Mr Mustard's head where he balanced precariously. "Don't panic," Anne said to her teacher, feeling the power between them shift. He stood stock still trying to see the animal perched on his head and utterly failing. The class too were silent wondering what might happen next but not actually keen to see the teacher wounded by the monkey's sharp fingernails.

"Goliath," Anne called gently. "Goliath, come to me, there's a good boy." She held out her hand moving her thumb and two fingers in an imitation of food in the hopes that he might be interested enough to come to her. "Stay still," she hissed to Mr Mustard. Later she wondered at her audacity but separating him from the monkey was the aim, not impudence. "C'mon boy, come to me." Goliath sat on the unfamiliar head feeling the difference. The man's hair felt strange and he smelt odd. Goliath shifted his weight for a moment and jumped off but not into Anne's arms, instead he landed on the back of Mr Mustard's chair. He strained slightly and they watched as a small turd dropped from under his tail landing on the teacher's seat. No one moved even a muscle and you could have heard a pin drop. The students further at the back of the classroom craned their necks to see. They heaved a collective sigh of relief when Goliath sprang from the chair to the desk and into Anne's arms. She crooned to him comfortingly then turned and walked down the centre aisle and out the door into the sunshine feeling mortified as the sounds of laughter erupted behind her.

* * * 

"It's mine!"

"Give it me!"

"No, I want it."

"No."

"It's my turn," Johnny wrestled the ball away from Jacob forcefully knocking his younger brother to the ground and ran off triumphant.

Marilla heard the wails and sighed. She found Jacob sitting up but sobbing. "What happened?"

"Jo-nny stole my ball, Mummy. An an he pushed me over."

"Are you much hurt?" Jacob pointed to his elbow and held it out. She thanked her lucky stars he was still young enough to believe in the restorative power of a kiss then went to find Johnny. "It was my turn," he said to her defiantly when she reached him. Marilla looked at him reproachfully with her arms folded. "It was," he said, sounding slightly less definite. Marilla sat down on a bench nearby and rubbed her forehead. When Mari appeared, she retreated to the cabin exhausted by his defiance.

"But Johnny lived Mar, I don't understand why you're still so upset?" John asked her that night when she failed to appear at the dinner table.

"I know, I know he did. But I keep thinking what if he hadn't. I can't get it out of my mind. I just can't" she said. "What if he, what if ... ? I lost little Rachel I can't bear to lose Johnny too. I just feel as if my world is collapsing. I know it could be worse, Isaiah has helped with that, but I just can't get it out of my head. I just can't."

John sighed as she turned away. "What do you want then?" he asked, worried that he already knew her answer.

"I don't think I can stay on board. I can't keep them safe anymore. I don't think I can stand it."

"I thought you loved it."

"I did, I do, but I can't do everything. Who's to say Jacob won't go up next or Susanna?"

"Accidents happen on land too," John reasoned.

"I s'pose so."

She could feel the mattress sink under his weight as he sat down next to her. "Come now love, how would a little break be? You and the children can stay at Avonlea, in the old place for a few months, what do you think? We have to pass by on the next leg anyway."

Marilla laid her head in his lap and felt comforted when he stroked her hair, "that sounds nice," she trailed off as though she meant to say more.

"What is it?"

"Nothing."

"You want me to stay with you on land, come to Avonlea." It was a statement, not a question.

"You hate farming," Marilla said.

"What I hate is being parted from you, my darling. I want us to be a family, all together – happy."

"I don't know if, if, if I can help you there," she replied quietly.

"Well I know you can't manage it here, can you?" She shook her head. "Right," he said. "It's fixed I'll resign my post and we'll sort out the farm. You and I are going to be farmers again, Marilla. It's time for a new adventure. Haven't seen snow for a long time, eh?" She twisted her head to look at him, amazed at his ability to make such a momentous decision so blithely.


	22. Chapter 22

Naturally it was Rachel who spied them first arriving in a cavalcade up the lane. She rushed out the door. "Marilla," Rachel called embracing her daughter warmly. When she released her everyone was smirking. "What is it? What have I said?" she said, confused.

"They call me Mari now, Ma. It was just too confusing for everyone to have two Marillas.

"You can go back to being Marilla now you're home safe and sound," Rachel replied with that firmness Mari had half forgotten.

"No Ma, I prefer Mari."

"I reckon your girl knows her own mind," John commented. Rachel looked around then and saw how robust they all looked even wee Susanna looked the picture of health. All but the senior Marilla who it had to be said looked wan and exhausted as she leant on Gilbert's side. "We'll leave you here Mari," John said. "And we'll get on up to the old place. We'll call by in the next couple of days once we're settled in." With a wave from them all, they carried on up the road.

Waving the cart farewell Mari felt something break, her heart maybe that her adventure was over? She turned with her mother's hands on her shoulder feeling as though she thought her trip had been a terrible mistake. Mari did not agree, it had been amazing, but how to tell them?

Rachel had noticed that Marilla had not spoken a word, but she shook her head; her girl was home and she had much to catch up on. It was only later after a bath and a good hot meal that she felt compelled to ask, "is Marilla quite well?"

"There was an accident a couple of months ago," Mari explained. "We nearly lost young Johnny. It was my fault," she added, tearing up.

"How could it be your fault? Did they blame you?" asked Rachel her heat rising in defence of her girl.

"Oh, no. I mean at first in the heat of the moment Marilla was upset but she didn't really blame me, not really." Rachel felt there was a story there too but made the decision to come back to that later. "What happened?"

"Johnny was skylarking, and he fell into the sea. A sailor rescued him thank the Lord. We were all so worried, but he came to a few days later almost as good as new."

"But then why?" Rachel was perplexed. If it had a happy ending then why was Marilla still in such a state?

"Aunt Marilla never really recovered from the shock. She's been deteriorating ever since, so the Captain made the decision to bring them home. They're going to stay," she said answering her mother's unspoken question.

"For good?"

"Looks like it. The Captain resigned and left the ship in the hands of the Mate. Say, where's Anne?" she asked looking around.

"She's at school," Rachel explained. "Really, I could have done with more help around here, but Matthew insisted she get an education. It'll be good to have you back," she added caressing Mari's cheek with her work worn hand.

Mari shrugged her attentions away, "I'm not sure I just want to be your skivvy Ma. Now I've seen something of the world, I think I'd like an education myself. Maybe I'll go to college, learn to be a teacher myself?" Rachel's eyes narrowed, Mari had grown while she was away, and she was not sure she wholly approved.

The earth was too hard under Mari's feet, she missed the ship's to and fro and strange to say the changing hues of the ocean. She never thought she'd say that, after her first horrid days on board when she questioned her choice, she felt now as though the ship was home rather than Avonlea. Saying her farewells had been hard. She'd made friends with several of the crew, not least Isaiah of course, who hugged her tightly and whispered his best wishes in her ear before she climbed down the rope ladder.

She found much to her surprise that her family were not all that interested past the usual, 'how was it?' They stopped listening just as she was warming to her theme. After her siblings had initially gathered excitedly around her, she felt the expected elation evaporate as they moved away to get on with their chores. I'm back! she felt like shouting. Doesn't anyone care?

It was Anne who understood. Mari had little chance to become acquainted with Anne last time, but now she was the one to whom Mari gravitated. After bedtime they lay under the bedcovers together and shared stories. Anne wanted to know how everyone was, especially Isaiah and where they had been? She commiserated with Mari when she described those first days on board and how hard the transition had been. "You had no idea what you were getting yourself into did you?" Anne said. "I was so wrangled up in my mind, I didn't think of you. It's overwhelming at first isn't it. And you long for something to break your line of sight."

"Uh huh," agreed Mari. "But now…"

"I know, I know. Maybe we should run away to sea together, with Goliath of course. We could be ships cooks or something." Mari giggled, covering her mouth with her hand so no one else could hear. She sobered up when she thought of the family up at the Blythe farm.

Sensing her change of mood Anne asked, "what's wrong with Marilla?" She had picked up on some comments Rachel had made over dinner.

"She's suffering with melancholia. There was an accident. It was my fault." Through her tears Mari sobbed the story out while Anne rubbed her shoulder.

"Mari, that wasn't your fault. Sounds like a terrible accident, but what else could you have done?"

"I know, I know but she blamed me regardless."

"Maybe in the heat of the moment, but not forever I'm sure."

"But isn't that when your true feelings come out? I blame myself, I should have stopped him, I sh…"

Anne clapped her hand over Mari's mouth this time, "shh shh accidents happen. He was rescued, wasn't he? So why is she still unwell?"

"I don't know, she's just sunk into despair and she can't shrug it off. I miss her," Mari gasped, it came out without thought. "She was always so strong, I felt safe with her near. Now she's relying on all of us instead of the other way round. It's," she struggled to find the right words, "it's as if I lost my mother. They need her back; I need her back. Ma's lovely of course but I don't think she understands me these days. Marilla and I understood each other."

"You were kindred spirits," supplied Anne.

"I guess so, yeah kindred spirits, I like that," Mari said. "Did you feel the same way?"

"She was always very kind to me, she acquired Goliath for me in an Italian marketplace. I didn't even ask, I was just besotted with him right off and she haggled with his owner," Anne giggled. "I think he thought she'd be an easy touch being with child and all, but…"

"Oh my," replied Mari imagining it. "He must have got a shock."

"It was a thing of beauty," Anne said proudly.

* * *

As wonderful as it was to be back home Marilla struggled. They had hoped, expected really, that once they left the ship their wife and mother would return as good as new but it did not prove so easy. One more raised voice as Marilla snapped at the boys had John intervening. He shooed the children out into the yard and sat down with Marilla. "Still not coping, are you?" She lay back on the cushions and closed her eyes.

John left her there and went to find Matthew. As usual the man was holed up in his barn, the little monkey John remembered hooted from the rafters and refused to come down, disturbed by the stranger. Matthew had been delighted to welcome them home, but he too was worried about Marilla. He listened to John's proposal and nodded sagely, "think it might be for the best for a little while. She can have a good break here. We'll," he nodded up at the monkey, "give her a good rest. Let Cuthberts tend to Cuthberts."

"I was hoping you'd say that," said a relieved John.

"Doesn't Mama love us anymore?" Jacob asked when John returned home after delivering Marilla to her family home. John swung the boy onto his shoulders saying, "of course she does. Mama loves you to the moon and back, but she's not very well so she's just having a rest for a few days. Come along," he said distracting the boys, "let's see what your old man can rustle up for dinner."

They came to a new arrangement hoping it would only be temporary. Anne moved in with the Blythes while Marilla stayed with Matthew. The boys started school, but young Susanna stayed with the Lyndes, comforted by Mari whom she knew so well.

* * *

One afternoon Matthew sang old lullaby, one that their brother used to sing. Marilla roused enough to look at him and spoke into the silence that followed. "I just," she stopped and cleared her throat unused to speaking. Matthew silently reached across to pour a glass of water and handed it to her, helping her hold it when her hands proved too shaky. Marilla licked the last drops of water off her lips and started again hesitatingly, taking long pauses between words, "I just feel as though I'm walking on a tightrope," she took a deep breath. "And if I stop concentrating, I'll fall and fall for ever. There's no bottom to it. It's such hard work, there's no energy for anything else."

Matthew was silent unable to process how to help his sister against the demons that bedevilled her. With a flash he had an idea. "Let's get you out of here."

"Out?" Marilla shook her head. Her old bedroom was her sanctuary, "no."

"Yes," urged Matthew, assertive for once. "C'mon Em it's a lovely day outside. There's a comfy seat." Unable to summon the will to fight him, Marilla did as he ordered. He helped her to her feet and together they slowly made their way through the old house and onto the porch.

It was nice out in the fresh air; Matthew had been right after all. Marilla sat in the dappled sunlight, a blanket around her knees sipping the milky tea Matthew had brought her and nibbled the cake Rachel had delivered the previous day.

John pretended it was just an errand he was going on, he had to fetch those things, the things he needed from Green Gables. It couldn't wait another day, he just needed them now. Usually when he rode past the house was quiet, so his heart skipped a beat to see her enjoying afternoon tea outside for a change. He rode away without disturbing them, the knowledge that she had made it outside again was enough for him.

* * *

"You don't think I'm turning into her, do you?" Marilla asked Matthew one night when they were clearing up after dinner.

"Mother?"

"See you think it too, you didn't even ask who I meant."

Matthew sighed and took the latest clean dish from Marilla to dry, "well now, I suppose it's crossed my mind, but,"

Marilla interrupted him, "don't want it to, it can't happen. But I find myself thinking back to that time. I didn't feel any compassion for her then but now oh," she placed her hands in the scalding hot water briefly before pulling them out all wet and red. Matthew dried them with his damp tea towel and led her away to the kitchen table. Marilla looked at him for a moment and started speaking quietly, "I thought she'd given up. She had other children to care for and she deserted us, but Matthew I've done the same thing."

He took her reddened hands in his wide brown ones and squeezed gently, "I don't reckon so. You know the children are being cared for while we care for you. It ain't the same thing at all. We was left you and I to Pa's inadequacies. You know John and Anne and Rachel and Mari will look after the children better'n Pa ever could. We'll get you through this, Em like a family should."

Marilla pulled her hand from his and patted it gently, "I know you will, and I can't say how much I appreciate it. I'm sure you all think I'm quite mad. I suffered so when Johnny was recovering but instead of getting better when he did, I went backwards. There's no sense to it, I just feel so anxious that something bad will happen again and I can't get the memory of every evil deed out of my mind."

"When have you ever committed one of those?" Matthew was shocked.

"Well I left you, didn't I?"

"Em that wasn't a sin. You saved yourself from a life of deprivation, no good could come from living here with Pa 'n' me and then just me. It made me so happy on those long nights to think of you somewhere out in the world having adventures. I used to dream where you'd be and what you'd be doing. It must have been incredible."

"Mostly it was, not always," said Marilla thinking back to Tunis.

"Oh?" said Matthew.

"It started out so innocent," Marilla started quietly. "We'd been shopping in so many marketplaces by then maybe our guard was down? A group of pickpockets surrounded Mari and when she stumbled, they swarmed all over her like bees. I thought our saviour came in the form of a well to do woman who ushered us both into the most peaceful courtyard. Such a welcome relief." She paused gathering her thoughts while Matthew waited patiently. "I think of her now as the serpent in the Garden of Eden. At least that's how she appears in my nightmares. Her servants tended to us and served really the most delicious elixir Matthew," the memory of that drink made Marilla dry retch. "It was drugged," she added when she had recovered sufficiently. "I always thought tales of the White Slave Trade were overblown but they were going to sell us. I wasn't worth much, John told me later. It was Mari, sweet Mari. Rachel trusted me to look after her, Matthew and I nearly, I nearly lost, I nearly lost her to the slavers," she looked up at him with wild eyes as he gaped back. "You can't imagine. Well I suppose you can," she said with a shudder.

"My God," he said. "How did John rescue you?"

"He paid a handsome price for us both, I believe. Several camels at least."

"Camels?"

"Yes, women are traded for camels."

"Savages! You think in these enlightened years that sort of thing would have been stamped out, it is the 1870s after all."

"It's a different world down there, Matthew. Quite barbaric."

* * *

Rachel came to pay a call. She often dropped by to deliver food; a cake or some preserves here and a stew there, but usually did not stay. John had taken her to one side shortly after their return to instruct Rachel not to be too abrupt. It had taken a couple of tries to moderate her behaviour. The first time she had told Marilla to buck up she watched as the poor woman practically folded in upon herself.

Today appeared to be a good day and Marilla was sitting by the fire in the parlour. Having placed a cake on the kitchen table Rachel wandered in with Susanna balanced on one hip. She sat down on an armchair and waited until Marilla greeted her. It took slightly longer than it perhaps should have done, but Rachel understood that such things were an effort for her these days. "Good morning," Marilla said slowly, looking at the baby. It was like watching a man emerge from the water or from a darkened room into the light, Marilla looked at her unblinking for a long moment then eventually added, "how are you?"

"I just thought I'd sit a spell," said Rachel deciding not to enquire as to the state of Marilla's health; in Rachel's experience Marilla found that enquiry difficult along with making decisions. Marilla's unsteadiness frustrated her. Watching her struggle with the simplest of tasks was not easy and more than once Rachel stepped in to make the decision on her behalf. Marilla's relief was palpable; but ultimately Rachel reasoned it was not helpful. If they wanted Marilla to recover, she had to relearn how to take charge of her life.

Marilla did not hold her arms out for the baby, but Rachel decided to take matters into her own hands and set her down upon the floor. Susanna was not yet walking confidently but she had started to cruise hanging on to furniture and they both watched as she did so now, taking a circuitous route, via various soft furnishings to her mother. Eventually she stood by her unsteadily holding onto her skirts and looking up into her face drooling ever so slightly.

Rachel looked on curiously wondering how Marilla would react. There was no right way, not really, but Rachel feared Marilla would turn away. When she did not, instead bending over to pick the baby up and place her on her lap, Rachel let go of a breath. She left them to it and went to fetch the tea. She could hear Marilla chatting to the baby and decided to take a cup out to the barn figuring Matthew might appreciate it. "Thank you," he said when she handed it over. "How does she seem to you?"

"She's chatting with the baby, I figured I'd leave them to it for a wee while."

A warm smile stole over Matthew's face. "Good," he said. "Just what she needs I reckon. Something joyful like that, she needs a bit of reminding what life's all about."

Marilla relied upon Rachel to fill the conversational void and thus welcomed her visits. Rachel's news might be of the small-town variety though delivered as if it were if great import, but Marilla relaxed into the news of Mrs Pye's painful piles and Mr Andrew's failed potato crop as if it were riveting stuff. There was something relaxing about it all and she need not have an opinion on any of it; following Rachel's lead was all that was required.

Despite having contributed virtually nothing to the conversation, Marilla was exhausted when Rachel left, and she slowly made her way to bed to sleep the interaction off. Matthew found her there and bought her some tea which he silently placed on the bedside table. "Stay," she murmured. Surprised he sat down on the end of the bed. "I want to thank you," she said.

"Course," he replied. "I'm here for you for however long it takes."

"Think I'm going backwards."

"Don't think so," Matthew replied. "You have more good days than bad days.

"Do you think?"

"I saw Rachel visited and she stayed a while, didn't she? That's progress I reckon."

"But it exhausted me."

"That's not surprising, Rachel can tire any one out," he said with a grin, "but you lasted as long as she did."

"Then she went home to prepare dinner whereas I came here."

"Baby steps Em. Don't let that discourage you. Let's take it one day at a time. I choose to believe we can beat it."

Marilla yawned and said, "you are good to me, I'll try to take heart."

Matthew patted her hand saying, "you take a nap now and I'll put dinner on."

* * *

In the end it was Goliath that pulled Marilla out of her melancholia. He may not have been solely responsible, but despite his size, or rather lack thereof, he did make a difference. Banished from school the day of his toileting accident he wandered forlornly around the farm waiting for Anne's return.

The addition of another person had not gone unnoticed. Naturally he did not remember her as such, but her scent was reminiscent of happiness though he sensed now that she was sad. The first time he ventured inside he felt her melancholia infiltrating the entire house and unnerved he backed away. She intrigued him however and he would return to her door day after day.

Sound sleep had left Marilla the day Johnny fell. Nightmares were her constant companion. They did not always take the form of his death, all manner of dreadful fears surfaced going right back to her childhood. Some nights her long-departed father menaced, or it might be the ship hitting a reef in the middle of a stormy night. But that all changed the day Goliath snuck into her room.

No one knew now or why but when she felt his small hands caress her cheek and his small warm body fit under her chin she was soothed. He asked nothing of her bar perhaps comfort and even in her weakest moments she had that to spare. It was ridiculous she knew, but just having him around lifted her spirits. She was a little bit sad every day when Anne returned home, and Goliath swapped allegiance. His antics made her smile and she began to take more notice of the world around her. It was slow but Matthew noticed the difference. When he reported it to John they smiled together. "Funny how life goes isn't it," John said. "I was so furious when she brought the monkey back that day and now it's saving the family."


	23. Chapter 23

"That monkey loves you Marilla," Rachel commented as the animal wrapped himself around her neck.

"Sometimes a bit too much," replied Marilla grimly unhooking him from her bun.

"How so?" Rachel said settling back into the armchair with a fresh piece of cake.

"He brought me a 'present' last night," Marilla pulled the animal off her shoulders and shook her finger at him. "Didn't you, you little rascal."

"Well are you going to explain," Rachel said a little truculently.

"You didn't hear my scream?" Marilla asked dryly.

* * *

The monkey-squirrel war had continued unabated for some time. Their pitched battles may have dulled to a low simmer, but the resident squirrel population continued to taunt Goliath and in turn he bared his teeth and hissed at them whenever he got the chance.

Recently Goliath had taken on the role of guard monkey and it was a responsibility he took even more seriously now that the sad lady had come to live with them. One evening he was out for his usual constitutional. A light drizzle meant that the trees were slippery, and he had to concentrate just that little bit harder as he made his rounds. Where his favourite branch met the trunk Goliath was surprised to find a baby squirrel; damp fur and shiny black eyes shivering up at him. He sniffed it and plucked it from its precarious perch then holding it close to his breast with one hand, he climbed down using his tail perhaps more than he had previously. Making his way though a convenient open window he walked through the dark house. Easily locating the sad lady's room in the dark he climbed onto Marilla's bed. He lay the squirrel down on her pillow, carefully licking it and himself dry before they both settled down to sleep.

* * *

It is morning, the sun's rays light up the curtain and more dimly the bedroom. Marilla wakes and lies in the liminal space between sleep and waking taking stock of her situation; the familiar sound of the creaking ship is replaced by birdsong. She misses the ship, but it only takes a moment to recognise where she is, where once it took a while. Stretching luxuriously, she notices a new smell. Damp fur perhaps? The monkey must have been out in the rain before he joined her as he often does these days.

Marilla remembers the day Goliath eschewed Anne's arms for her own. She felt sorry for Anne when the monkey switched allegiance, but truth be told she had missed his company at night. It was a comfort to lie with him at night. When nightmares disturb her, it is his calm breathing that brings her back to reality.

She turns over and snuggles into the pillow before she opens her eyes. But what is that? Goliath seems to have shrunk in the night, like a petticoat in a hot wash. No, it's not the monkey it's a a, what is it? Marilla rises on her elbow to get a better look and realises it's a baby squirrel. Obviously dead. For some simian reason Goliath has brought her a small gift, she's heard of animals doing this. On occasion Rachel has complained about her barn cats depositing mice on the doorstep and even a couple of times in their boots. That's bad enough of course but surely this is worse. A dead animal on your pillow is nothing she has ever woken to before. And where is Goliath? She glances around and sees a lump under the blankets. She used to worry that he'd suffocate under there, but he seems to manage just fine. She reaches out with her toe, he seems to be content.

She looks back at the squirrel. It seems peaceful but it can't stay there. She'll have to get up and dispose of it. Matthew would do the honours for her if she asked but really it's just a tiny little thing, she should be able t…

The squirrel lurches.

* * *

The barn was always peaceful this time of day. Dust motes hung in soft golden shafts while the cow chewed its cud in time with the soft hiss of her milk hitting the bucket. Even in the dead of winter this was one of Matthew's favourite times of the day. The cow stamped her feet and swished her tail and he patted her flank with his right hand while his left continued to squeeze the teat.

Matthew's head shot up when he heard a faint scream. He stopped still for a moment honing in on the sound then turned around so quickly he upset the milk. He ran to the house and pounded up the stairs to find Marilla standing on the chair screaming shrilly.

"Marilla?" he asked. "What's up?"

She was beyond speech by this point. With a shaky finger she pointed at the pillow, but the terrified squirrel had long gone, and only Goliath sat there trembling at her in fright.

"Goliath?" said Matthew hoping she had not taken a turn. "We know Goliath, he's our friend. Come now Em, here let me help you down." He took her arm and got her settled back on the bed.

"Not him," she stammered. "'nother thing."

"Take some deep breaths," Matthew told her. "Gently now, just get your breath back." Feeling a little faint Marilla put her head between her knees and tried to steady herself feeling her heart gradually stop pounding. Matthew peered around the room to find the offending object, if there was one and finally found it under the bureau. "Aha, got you!" he said pulling the baby squirrel out wincing when it bit his forefinger. "Is this it?" he asked as blood trickled down his hand.

Marilla looked at the tiny animal and nodded then said, "your hand." She swayed as she got back to her feet and slumped back down on the bed. "Don't worry about it," Matthew said. "It's just a little nick. Its teeth are still too small to inflict much damage." He shook his hand a little feeling the pain radiate down his arm. Marilla looked aghast as tiny red droplets sprayed out. "Get that bandaged, Matthew before you make more of a mess."

Matthew did as she bid but as he clumped down the stairs holding his finger, he smiled to himself, Marilla's assertiveness appeared to be returning. She was right of course the wound was beginning to throb. He returned a few minutes later with a rag in the other hand. "Might need a hand here," he said ruefully. He sat down on the bed next to her while she bound him up. "Hardly worth the fuss."

"Nonsense," she replied. "Don't want to get dirt in."

"Where is it now?" he asked as he looked around the room. "Oh! Looks like Goliath has made a new friend."

Marilla looked at the monkey with the squirrel clutched tight to his chest. "Maybe he's adopted it?"

The little squirrel seemed much more alert now, but Marilla thought it must be hungry. "Do you have a dropper or maybe we can put some milk on a rag for it to drink?"

"The milk!" Matthew said. "That's going to be in short supply today, I reckon," he said remembering the sensation when his heel connected with the bucket on his way out of the barn.

"Well it needs something," Marilla mused. "Maybe I'll pop over to see if John has any to spare."

This was a new development, Matthew thought. Maybe it was just the impetuous Marilla needed? He looked with newfound respect at the tiny animal thinking, you might be just the thing she needs.


	24. Chapter 24

John sighed as he forked hay into the cow byre. He'd willingly given up the seafaring life to be with Marilla, but the problem was they were here on land for her sake yet were still separated. Outside trees were thrashing in the wind. It was the sort of day he always loved at sea when the sails were stretched taut against the wind and the ship was ploughing through the surf. He'd be standing up on the poop deck yelling out orders to the mate. The satisfaction of seeing his orders being carried out and the ship increasing speed was exhilarating. He felt as though he were the master of all he surveyed, bright happy and full of confidence. Here wind merely meant more work and potential crop loss as the orchard was battered.

His thoughts were interrupted by a commotion outside. Setting the fork down he followed the sound of squawking chickens. John emerged from the barn and was surprised to see Marilla disappearing into the house. Hurriedly he followed her, and the aggrieved chickens were disturbed once again.

"Just getting some milk," said Marilla gesturing at the squirrel. She explained what she was doing and why they were out at Green Gables. John's heart melted a little but once the squirrel was sorted, he took her in his arms, "good to see you," he said gently.

"What? Oh yes," she replied relaxing into his embrace. He took her wrist in one hand, turned it over and pressed his lips upon it. She stood stock still hardly daring to breathe and then stepped back without breaking his grasp. He reached out to cradle her cheeks in his hands and kissed her lips feeling his way inside. Then he pulled back and guided her upstairs. Once in the bedroom she took the initiative and undressed him, peeling off layer after layer and smoothing her hands over his chest.

Afterwards they lay together with all the warmth and companionship only good lovemaking brings. Marilla smiled languidly at John, "mmm." He trailed a line of kisses up her shoulder as he caressed her bare back with his finger. "Missed you, missed this," he whispered. She sighed and looked at him with sleepy eyes. "Shh now, sleep," he urged and watched as she relaxed with deep breaths. Feeling sated and completely happy for the first time in a long while John did likewise.

He woke when the sun's rays slanted in through the window catching his eye and bathing Marilla in a golden light. Once in London they had visited an art gallery. They had paused before the painting of a completely naked woman recumbent upon a dishevelled bed. Marilla tried to urge him along, but John was fascinated not just by the image which stayed with him for a long time, but by the model's insouciance. Eventually just before his stance became noticeable, he let Marilla pull him away. It had scandalised and disturbed yet strangely excited him. Marilla reminded him of that painting now as she lay bathed in the golden sunlight, her bare breasts spilling down her chest.

He'd missed her as he'd said. Missed her mothering skills, her company and missed her in his bed. Their cabin may have cradled them in the sea's rocking embrace, but it had to be admitted space was tight; today they had made the most of the wider mattress as they enthusiastically made up for lost time.

He glanced out the window and noticed the angle of the sun. "C'mon sweetheart, we should get up," he said rousing her. Marilla wasn't sure where she was when she opened her eyes, still groggy from her post coital nap. John leant over and kissed her sweetly then said somewhat regretfully, "the children will be home from school soon. We had better get dressed."

"Just a little longer," Marilla murmured, pulling John closer unwilling to spoil the moment.

"No," John protested half-heartedly as unbalanced he fell awkwardly half across her chest.

"Yes," insisted Marilla holding him tight.

Downstairs the clock chimed the half hour and John was alerted back to the task at hand, "come I'll help you get dressed," he said. "Afterwards though," he winked and kissed his fingers lightly.

The children tumbled in from school surprised to find their mother standing in the kitchen. "Mama," Johnny and Jacob cried as they flung themselves into her arms. Laughing she twirled them in her arms, and they all fell onto a chair together all limbs and lap. She breathed in their boyish scent deeply noticing absentmindedly that they now smelt of hay and the rich red earth whereas before it was salty sea air. "Are you staying Mama?" Jacob asked.

"Don't go back to Uncle Matthew, please," Johnny urged.

Matthew! Marilla had clear forgot about him. "John please tell Matthew where I disappeared to, he must be worried."

John winked surreptitiously and headed out the door.

"She all right?" Matthew asked when John found him in the barn.

"Yes sorry, she's fine. We er had a bit of a um reunion so to speak," John stammered feeling no need to go into details. Matthew sniffed and shifted on his feet he got the gist all right. "Come for dinner," John said.

"Tomorrow night maybe," Matthew replied. "Give you some time to yourselves. Don't want no bachelor barging in just yet."

John insisted but Matthew would not be persuaded. In the end Anne joined him feeling like an intruder too. She wandered into the kitchen with the monkey riding easily on her shoulder. "Jus' like old times," Matthew said calmly as he laid another setting on the table. "Good to have you back."

Life settled down then. Marilla moved her things back into the Blythe house and started the business of making a home for them all. It had been years since she had cooked every day, but she found her mother's old cookbooks all dog eared and stained. The process was soothing and it measured out her days. Too much time was hard to cope with but by keeping herself busy she felt happier.

One day Marilla dug out her old sea chest full of treasures. Deep down at the bottom was the sampler she had discarded when she was at her lowest, when the thought of picking up something as small as a needle seemed too onerous. She had given one to Matthew after Susanna was born and often glanced at it when she stayed with him but this one was for her oldest friend. In a quiet moment when Susanna napped, she sorted out her yarn and threaded a needle to tidy up the loose strands and soon lost herself in its colourful strands.

Matthew was not forgotten. Most nights found him either up at the Blythe farm surrounded by the family or with the boys and Anne sat around his table. Despite being better Marilla still needed a break now and again and they were happy to oblige for they loved their Uncle Matthew and he them. Little Johnny in particular had a real knack for storytelling and he told the tale of their voyages with such gusto bringing it all to life so that sometimes Matthew felt decidedly bilious. "easy, easy," he'd say, and Jacob would laugh at his green gills.

It was not only Marilla and John who had to adjust to life on land. Even little Jacob missed the rolling of the sea. He liked to borrow an old flat which usually lay tied up on Barry's pond. The gentle lapping water was a far cry from the ocean, but it was better than nothing. If they could not locate him at home, they soon learnt to look for him there and he would be found drifting in the middle of the pond fast asleep.

* * *

Back in Australia Zhang Wei picked his way through the blasted Ballarat landscape to the street of scribes. Almost every spare scrap of ground had been dug up and poured over in an attempt to prise the gold out of the earth. It may have been lucrative, but it damaged the land. Zhang Wei used to wonder what it looked like here before gold was struck.

Scribes were the educated men who wrote your letters home for you. They had that rare talent of taking your fumbled phrasing and turning it into dutiful prose. Or at least that's what you paid them for, you could only assume that's what they did. On this occasion Zhang Wei had to cobble together more money because he had to find a scribe who wrote English, he planned to write a letter to Canada.

He asked around and eventually was directed to a middle aged man sitting on the side of the road behind an old wooden box covered in papers, "sit down, sit down, I am Number One English Scribe. What do you need?"

"Good morning, I need a letter in English, I want to write to some old friends."

"In English? Who do you know who speaks English?" The man peered at him closely, "don't tell me you were the one who brought the ghosts to the city bathhouse?"

"That's me," said Zhang Wei proud his reputation had preceded him.

"My sister said she saw them, all pink and hairless like big ugly grubs," said the scribe shaking his head in disbelief.

"Yes, well anyway I need to write to them, I have money," said Zhang Wei placing his coins on the desk.

"Very well," said the scribe biting down on one of the coins. "What you want to say?"

* * *

One cloudy morning Marilla went to town to run a few errands and naturally she popped into the post office to pick up the Avonlea mail. There was an old and rather battered package addressed to Captain John and herself which she investigated thoroughly. No one called John captain anymore. As she opened it out fluttered a page of close written words. When she unwrapped the rag, two objects fell to the ground with a dull thud. Upon bending to pick them up, she realised it was two nuggets of gold. Hastily she rewrapped them to keep them safe from prying eyes. The letter was hard to read in the gloomy light so she folded the page back up and put it back in the envelope to deal with when she got home.

Mari would be interested she expected so she stopped into Lynde Hollow. "Is Mari home from school?" she asked Rachel. "I have something to show her."

"Remember Little Pete?" Marilla asked the girl as she placed the letter on the kitchen table.

"The oriental baby minder? of course I do," said Mari. "I'd almost forgotten about him."

"What's that? Who are you talking about?" Rachel asked sharply. Orientals were untrustworthy as far as she knew; which quite frankly was not far.

"He was amazing wasn't he, Mari. Quite a wonder with the baby."

"Yes, I recall one long night he just plucked her from my arms, and she was asleep in a flash. Never understood his secret, but usually by that stage I didn't care."

"Absolutely," laughed Marilla. "Anything to have her quiet down."

"And what about the bathhouse?" Mari reminded Marilla.

Marilla flushed bright pink and giggled, "oh yes!"

"Bathhouse?" Sometimes Rachel almost resented their relationship; they had shared so many experiences and a quick comment could have them both reminiscing.

"Wasn't that odd. I felt like a fish in a bowl, all those eyes gazing upon us," Marilla added.

"This gentleman," Marilla pointed at the letter, "showed us to the oriental bathhouse. I don't believe I've ever been as clean."

Rachel had to sit down in shock. "When you say bathhouse," she asked carefully, "do you mean you were...?"

"Well you have to be to bathe," Marilla told her. Secretly she rather enjoyed jolting Rachel out of her comfort zone.

"But but I don't understand. Why do you need a whole house to bathe in?"

"It's a public bathhouse, Rachel. All the women go there together."

Rachel gulped and went a little pale, "together?" she said with furrowed brow.

"Naked," Marilla said by way of clarification.

"Oh my," said Rachel going paler if such a thing were possible. "Oh my, oh my."

"Anyway," Marilla turned her attention back to Mari, "Little Pete seems to have written a letter. I'm having a bit of trouble reading it, you have a look."

Mari closely examined the page and sat down with it and another piece of paper to transcribe. "I think I have it now," she said after a little while. "Here goes,"

_Venerable Captain and Wife,_

_I am writing this letter for Zhang Wei passenger upon your esteeemed vessel from city of Singapore to Melbourne. He say he happy in Australia. He made many money. He sends wishes to family. He like you all very much. He say he hope he see you again won day. Noisy baby must be walking now he sends good luck to her and this little piece of gold. Big nugget for Captain as payment for passage._

John laughed when Marilla and Mari showed him the letter. "Do you suppose the letter writer advertised his skill by saying he was an expert at English."

Mari smirked but added after a pause, "well his English is better than my Chinese at any rate."

Sobering John had to agree, "you've got a point there."

Marilla gasped when she heard about the larger nugget, "we can't possibly accept it John. It's far too generous and in any case the passage should be paid to the company, not us."

"I don't expect they care all that much, Mar. We'll keep it by I think, just in case we need it one day."


	25. Chapter 25

"And another thing." Rachel propped herself up on one elbow and jabbed Thomas in the side to press her point home. "They're always making jokes at my expense. I am her mother, Thomas. Doesn't that count for anything?"

Wincing, Thomas redirected his wife's digit, but he only said a noncommittal, "mm."

"Mm? Is that all you have to say? Mm! Marilla has stolen our baby, that's what!"

"Hardly stolen, my dear," Thomas said soothingly. "She was returned, safe and sound."

"But not in the same state, Thomas. She's changed."

"She's grown, I'll give you that. I suppose travel does change a body. She's experienced things we can hardly imagine."

"Hmph," Rachel flopped back onto the mattress. "I don't like it. I'll say it once and say it again. I don't like it. I want my little girl back. She's too sassy."

"Now, now, she's getting more mature is all. Mari…"

"And there's another thing, Mari. What's wrong with Marilla as a name. Mari," Rachel said sneering. "What sort of a name is Mari?"

"Actually, I quite like it," said Thomas ever the appeaser.

"Whose side are you on?"

"Yours my darling always yours. Now roll over," Thomas gently pushed her over the better to spoon her back. Later basking in her warmth he added, "don't worry about it so much. She'll soon settle down."

Though Rachel received little validation from Thomas her resentment towards Marilla grew. She had given little thought to the ramifications of letting young Marilla head off to sea that blowy morning. It had dawned upon her when she watched the boat row away and it grew over the next months as the gap she left behind was far from filled by Anne.

Not only did Matthew insist upon sending her to school but Anne was an idler, inclined to burn the stew or leave the pie too long in the oven as she got lost in her dreams. Really, Rachel thought, at her age she should be reliable enough but time and again Rachel was disappointed. She didn't even want to think about the dratted monkey. Tiny it might have been, but it caused enough mischief for a boy four times his size. Why just the other day he'd been caught cavorting on the schoolhouse roof giving the children a scandalous anatomy lesson. Varied and embarrassing had been the questions over the dinner table that evening.

Time and again now, Mari and Marilla shared stories and smirked over coarse asides making Rachel feel left out and unworldly. There had been a scandalous incident in Melbourne apparently. Rachel thanked her lucky stars there was no one she knew in that part of the world, for surely that was not how ladies should comport themselves. Naked indeed, she shuddered to think about it. There was only one person who had seen Rachel unclothed in the last fifty years, barring her babies she supposed though they hardly counted. And that Marilla had taken Mari to such a den of iniquity said much about her character and none of it good. Something had happened in North Africa, but they would only allude to it with shudders and Rachel hardly dared imagine what it might have been. Similarly, they had encountered wild animals in South Africa on what sounded like a foolhardy expedition; surely horses were poor defence against wild lions.

Then there were the intricacies of shipboard life which sounded far from civilised. Really, thought Rachel settling down with a cup of tea in a rare quiet moment, it was a wonder her girl came back to her in any form. Still, it was aggravating, that's what. At no point did she think she'd given Marilla leave to alter her daughter thusly.

One day Mari mentioned a wedding they'd been invited to in Ceylon of all places which involved elephants and dancing in unnatural garments. Rachel had to sit down and gather her breath when that story came out. She felt no better when Mari told the whole family about the tiger that invaded the Singaporean hotel. Obviously, she hadn't seen it herself, or at least not alive, but the thought that her girl was in these dangerous parts where such things were possible was bad enough. "I am never letting you out of my sight again, darling," Rachel said firmly and scowled at Mari when she rolled her eyes.

For his part Thomas rather admired his girl. She had grown, was more assertive and interesting. He'd never say it out loud and in fact had never really stopped to think on it, but she wasn't the most fascinating girl before she left but he thrilled to hear her stories now. That she had survived all these adventures and met so many different people along the way, experiences Avonlea could never have supplied. Well there was no two ways about it, Thomas was proud of his girl. Still, he knew he had to go gently when it came to expressing his thoughts to Rachel. He was sure she'd settle down before long, but their relationship was a little fraught at present.

* * *

A chill wind blew as arm in arm Anne and Mari exited the church, just happy to be together. Church was more of a social occasion for the two girls at this stage of their life. They went because Marilla and Rachel made them go but it was more about having an opportunity to catch up than religious instruction. Wrapping their shawls tightly around their shoulders the two set forth into the gloom. The minister had first preached in Carmody and had come to Avonlea later in the day, so everyone was rushing home to their warm houses to get the dinner on.

Heads bowed against the wind they nearly didn't see her, but out of the corner of her eye Anne noticed a mound of clothing by the side of the path. At first, she paid it no mind but on second glance she realised it had form. Tugging Mari's arm, she steered them towards it and when they both peered down, they realised with a shock that was an old woman. She was dressed most outlandishly with bare legs poking out from a frayed skirt. Dark brown wrinkled skin lined her cheeks, and her hair was almost completely white. Anne knelt down next to her and took her cold hand in her own. "I think she's still alive," Anne gasped. "But she won't be for long if we leave her here."

"Gilbert," Mari called towards the boy's disappearing back. "Gilbert come here." But the wind was against her and he didn't hear. "Stay here," she said and ran off after him.

"Where shall we take her?" Gilbert asked looking down at the wizened woman.

"Better bring her to our place, it's closer," suggested Mari. "We need to get her into a warm bed."

She may have been tiny, but they soon realised it was hard to pick up a completely unconscious person. In the end, they found they had to carry her together with Gilbert at her head and the girls with a leg apiece. Together they made their way as quickly as possible through the rising weather to Lynde Hollow. Rachel and Thomas had arrived before them and Rachel was chivvying the younger children into helping out with the dinner and inwardly wondering where Mari had gotten to. "Finally," she said but the rest of her sentence died on her lips when she took in the group before her. "What is that?" she asked pointing.

"We found her on the side of the track, Ma," Mari explained. "We had to bring her here. She's still alive, but I don't think she'll survive much longer if we leave her out there. Come on, we'll put her…"

"Stop!" commanded Rachel. "Stop right there. That savage is not coming into this house."

Gilbert stopped mid-step and hitched the woman up before she fell out of his arms. It was not that she was heavy, but she was awkward.

"Savage, Ma?" said Mari. "She's an old woman and she's unwell, far from savage."

"I won't have heathens in this house," replied Rachel adamantly.

"Ma," said Mari. "Please let us in. It's freezing out here."

Grumbling Rachel stood aside and watched while they carried the unconscious woman through to the guest bedroom. The same room, Rachel thought absentmindedly that Marilla stayed in when she was unwell. It was made up as it always was, but Rachel thought uncharitably that she would probably need to burn the sheets when the old lady was well enough to go home. Mari interrupted her thoughts when she asked, "Ma can you pull back the blankets?" They laid the old woman gently in the bed and straightened her limbs before they covered her skin dark against the alabaster white of the sheets. Mari glanced at Gilbert and thanked him. Anne asked him to tell Marilla that she'd be staying with Mari. Gilbert muttered that it was his pleasure and left them to it, he had chores at home.

"Ma do you think you could bring me some warm water. I think we should at least try to give her a bath," Mari said.

Anne added, "and get her into a warm nightgown, don't you think?" The girls bustled around with warm water and clothes while Rachel looked on disapprovingly but did little more, so the girls had to continually walk around her while she stood still with crossed arms. Finally, Mari fetched a chair and pushed her mother to sit down if only to get her out of the way. Rachel got to her feet to shoo the younger children out of the doorway when they curiously crowded in, "no you don't. It's not safe. Off, you go." Grumbling they obeyed.

The old woman was very thin. Looking at her cut and bruised feet that she had not worn shoes for some time. Once they washed her it became apparent that she was not as dark as they first thought. Rachel tutted when the water in the bowl turned black but went and replaced it anyway. Anne spent some time trying to brush the twigs and leaves out of the lady's hair. They were grateful that she slumbered through the process. When they were finished, she lay in the bed her chest barely rising.

"At least she's warm now," Anne whispered to Mari. "I wonder what happened to her?" She had been so caught up in the rescue she had barely had time to think. "She'll be Mi'maq I'm sure but why was she alone?" She looked curiously at Rachel who snorted when she said Mi'maq. "Did I say something wrong Mrs Lynde?"

"She's just a dirty Indian that's all. She can stay until she wakes then she must leave. I won't have a savage heathen in my house."

"She's hardly dirty, we just took care of that Ma," replied Mari.

"Humph," Rachel recrossed her arms. "Regardless, once she's awake she must go."

"Go where? The weather's deteriorating, we can't let her leave on her own again. I think we had better send someone to find her people," Mari said.

"They probably deserted her," Rachel said. "Dirty savages, they don't care for their weak, or so I heard. They probably left her to die."

"We don't know that." replied Mari indignantly.

"Perhaps we should send Matthew," said Anne responding to Mari's suggestion. "I could draw a picture of her, so they know what he's there for. I doubt anyone will speak English."

"That's not a bad idea, we don't want him to appear threatening," Mari said. Anne smiled, Matthew was the least threatening person she knew.

The girls took turns watching the old lady accompanied always by Rachel who stayed out of a sense of mistrust rather than charity. During the night, after Anne had fallen asleep slumped in her chair, Mari glanced across to see her mother still staring towards the bed her eyes just visible in the candlelight and started speaking softly, "the kindest man I ever met was our cook Isaiah."

"Isaiah? That's a sturdy name, biblical," said Rachel.

"Yes, he's West Indian."

Rachel started, jolted out her comfort zone, "West Indian?" she said with a shudder.

"Yes Ma, I was so scared of him at first, I regret to say I was quite rude, but he showed me such tenderness. He had an effective seasickness remedy which was very helpful."

"Well, that's good I guess," said mother reluctantly.

"We became good friends, Ma. After we left Cape Town, I was pleased to be able to help him. He'd met a nice woman and was ashamed that he was illiterate and couldn't write her as he'd promised. Instead, I told him to try his hand at painting and after that we found him sketching most afternoons. I can only imagine what a magnificent parcel this woman received. Anyway, he was very interesting and courteous. He was a real friend to me despite my initial misgivings."

"Why are you telling me now?" her mother asked.

Mari looked towards the bed at the slumbering woman, "sometimes friendship can be found in the least likely of places."

When sunlight suffused the room in the morning the Mi'maq woman roused. Anne watched curiously as her eyes opened a couple of times and took in her surroundings. She jerked fully awake and looked at Anne fearfully. "'Sh, sh," murmured Anne soothingly she hoped. "Stay here," she added putting her hand out palm forward.

"She's awake," Anne announced as she walked into the kitchen. "May I have a bowl of broth?"

Rachel followed Anne back into the room and sat down on her chair to keep watch. Anne offered her a spoonful of the soup and then another when the woman swallowed the first; and smiled back at her when she smiled in appreciation. When she had eaten her fill Anne offered her a mouthful of water then patting her chest Anne said, "Anne. You?" but the woman was silent.

Matthew, Thomas and Gilbert were despatched to find the woman's family. They were not too far away as it happened, a fact the men decided not to divulge to the women. Still it took a while to locate them so well hidden were they. Riding into camp was a moment Gilbert never forgot, small groups of people hunched over a selection of fires. The atmosphere was not aggressive yet all activity ceased upon their appearance. He could feel all eyes upon them as they rode through the silent crowd to their leader. A strong man in his prime wearing a warm bear skin coat looked up at Matthew but did not hold out his hand when Matthew tried to hand him a slip of paper. Eventually his eyes flickered down to it and immediately the atmosphere changed as he saw the picture of the old woman lying in the bed. "You come with us," Matthew said slowly with hand gestures. The man followed them home accompanied by several of his relatives.

The distinctive sound of stomping bare feet on the doorstep informed them that her people had arrived. More savages than Rachel could bear streamed into her hallway and crowded into the bedroom. Long dark hair cascaded down their naked chests. The woman's face lit up. It was all over in a flash the men picked the old lady up and carried her out, disappearing into the forest at the edge of the property as if they were ghosts.

* * *

"I hear you had a visitor," said Marilla the next week when she came by for tea. She placed an unfamiliar basket on the table, "found this on the doorstep."

Rachel rolled her eyes, "yes," she said with pursed lips. "Didn't have much of a choice in it, though I'd hardly call her a visitor." She examined the basket closely.

"Well, you tended to her at least."

"It was Mari mostly, I kept well out of it," she took a sip of tea and set her cup down with a distinctive rattle.

"What's the matter? You took me in without question. Why was this poor old woman such a struggle for you?"

"That was different," Rachel said.

"How so? I expect I was even more demanding. I mean I nearly died in your guest bedroom and you had all the children not least Susanna to care for." Marilla glanced over to where the two little girls were banging blocks together. Rachel's Lexie was slightly older, but they got on pretty well.

"Well, that was you, this is completely different. She was a heathen."

Marilla frowned at her, "so you're saying that you can only show charity to Christians, not savages?" Rachel sniffed as she looked steadily at Marilla, but she did not reply. "What does the Bible say? Love thy neighbour. Does it say the neighbour must be Christian or white?"

Rachel was silent but listening. Then thinking of another argument she started up again, "you hear such awful things about them. Just last week I heard about a massacre in the States. The whole family were murdered in their beds Marilla and scalped. Scalped as they lay sleeping," she shuddered. "Just awful."

"From the look of that," Marilla replied pointing at the intricately woven basket. "I'd say you'll be safer than most of us. Seems like you've made yourself some Mi'maq friends whether you like it or not."

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I know Rachel's attitude is terrible, but the Europeans really were fearful of indigenous people and the newspapers would have been full of lurid tales of red Indians scalping settlers on the American frontier.


End file.
